Saving Ahsoka
by MapleCFreter
Summary: When Anakin has a vision of Ahsoka in danger he, Obi-wan, Padme, and Rex set out to rescue her, against the orders of the Jedi Council. To search for clues in Separatist space while keeping a low profile they go undercover as refugees. However keeping their identities a secret can be difficult when trouble seems to find them. (Team/family bonding, slowbuild dark Anakin)
1. The Abduction

The dark, twisting streets of some unfamiliar outer rim planet flashed by. They were too thin for speeders, the walls smooth brown stone with glassless windows. Coloured cloth hung down, blocking the alley. They were ripped down in disrespect by the trio who moved silently through the city; left crumpled on the sandy ground.

Two were zygerrians men, the third a human woman with a gaunt face, her greying hair mostly hidden under a ragged shawl. The zygerrians were in the prime of their youth, dressed more like smugglers than the slavers of their home world; but beside the blasters on their hips they both carried electro-whips. The woman carried a blaster as well, concealed within the folds of her tunic. Her hand hovered near it, trembling.

"This is it," she said, stopping in front of a building whose door was obscured by a curtain of bead.

"It better be," grunted one of the zygerrians. He was the taller of the two, with longer horns which grew towards each other, as if they were going to come to a point. "If not, don't forget we know where your family lives. Your pathetic whelps are nothing compared to a Jedi, but we don't intend to return empty handed."

The woman swallowed, then stepped into the building, holding open the beads for her two companions. "I'm sure."

They were in the darkened entrance area of a hostel. The only piece of furniture was a reception desk with a small, reptilian creature of some sort asleep behind it. Its head rested on the stone, a pool of drool forming beside it.

"Fine then," said the shorter zygerrian, "take your credits and get out of our sight."

He reached into an inner pocket of his pilot's jacket, and the woman held out her hands expectantly. Instead of handing her the trio of shiny rectangles, he instead hurled them to the ground, spitting where they landed. As the woman struggled to collect them they both laughed softly, even them subconsciously afraid to break the silence of late night. All the same they woke the creature behind the desk, who sat bolt upright, bulging eyes flitting around in alarm.

The larger zygerrian removed his pistol, pressing a single thin finger to his mouth. The receptionist sat frozen.

"You know who we're here for," said the smaller, in a whisper.

The creature looked around frantically, trying to think of some way to help the girl. She'd revealed herself for his sake after all, protecting the hostel from a drunken hoard of pirates the previous day. It had been foolish to hope news of a lightsaber user wouldn't have spread.

"Uh-uh-uh," scolded the zygerrian. "Try to warn her and my friend here will shoot you where you stand. We need her sleeping, though we want nothing else from you. Tell us what floor and we leave you, this fine establishment, and the rest of your guests unharmed."

The creatures let out a squeak which the zygerrians did not understand. At their confused expressions it held up three stubby fingers, burying its head in its hands as the pair moved further into the building.

The human woman, who still sat crouched in the entranceway pushed her credits into a pocket as she got to her feet.

"I hope she spears them through the head," she hissed, mostly to herself, but partially for the benefit of the receptionist who glared at her accusingly.

All four floors of the hostel were laid out in a similar manner. One large, low ceilinged room, cordoned off sporadically by curtains of different coloured cloth. Guests slept on bunks, which came in stacks of three, or in hammocks suspended from the ceiling. The air smelled slightly of incense, and the air was filled with the different breathing patterns of a plethora of sleeping species.

They found who they were looking for on a bottom bunk. She looked very small as she slept, just a child curled in on herself, but even the zygerrians were not so stupid as to think she wasn't dangerous. She was covered almost completely by a brown robe which was wearing thin in some places. Her identity as a togruta was discernible only from the tip of a montral, curling out from below her hood.

They stood for a moment before her, afraid—an emotion which was uncommon for them. They locked eyes. In the hand of the larger was a mechanical syringe. They moved at the same time. His partner pinned her shoulders at the same moment he held the cylinder against her neck. Her eyes flew open; confused and strikingly blue.

It took half a second for Ahsoka Tano to send the two assailants flying across the room. One smashed through the adjacent bunk, the other getting tangled in a group of hammocks. Ahsoka's force push had been made powerful by her panic. Fear—though a path to the dark side—was an unavoidable emotion for a padawan surviving all alone in the galaxy.

A choruses of yells and panicked voices had erupted, as Ahsoka attempted to get to her feet, but her knees buckled and she found herself on all fours. The room was spinning, the voices of frightened guests became the howls of beasts. Ahsoka's back was against the bed, her knees tucked up to her chest. She saw the shadowy form of the zygerrian as he picked his way out of the splintered remains of the bunk bed, whip in hand.

Hands trembling violently, she managed to get a hold of one of her lightsabers. She always slept with them now, just in case. It was the yellow one, and its blade seemed to waver in front of her as she activated it, distorting and swirling like the rest of the room. She could not stand but yet she held her lightsaber in front of her like a shield. However a few moments later even the desperation, which had been the last thread attaching her to consciousness, drained away and her body fell limp. Her hand, which had fallen to her side, still held the lightsaber.

"No!"

The word was screamed halfway across the galaxy, in the dark bedroom of a Coruscant apartment. Anakin Skywalker sat bolt upright, body sticky with sweat. The expensive silk sheets had been kicked off in his sleep. Still not fully awake, his mind kept replaying what he'd seen. Ahsoka had been alone, abandoned… He remembered the leering feline faces of the zygerrians and his anger only intensified. The slaver scum had taken her. He did not wish to think about for what.

"Anakin?" There was a soft hand on his shoulder.

His first reaction to stiffen and jerk away, his mind still swirling with rage and worry.

Padme let out a small, fearful gasp, and withdrew as if she was afraid he'd strike out at her. This guilt joined that which he felt over Ahsoka's predicament where it sat heavy on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, not even looking up at her.

Sensing something was wrong, Padme approached cautiously, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"A nightmare?" she asked, almost hopeful.

She'd seen the visions tear him apart before, and she was afraid, both for him and herself. His whole life had been war for too long, it had become war too young. The way he looked now, hair falling into his eyes, hands quivering slightly; it broke her heart. When she spoke to the senate she told them she did it to save the galaxy, but sometimes she thought that it would be enough just to save him.

"No, it's happening, I know it."

Anakin felt dizzy, and the city lights through Padme's half closed blinds blurred and ran, as if it was he who had been drugged and not Ahsoka, who knew how far away.

"Breathe…" She rubbed his back.

His breath had been coming in shallow gasps, like sobs without the tears. Suddenly he curled in, burying his head against her chest. It was almost childlike, though he was must bigger than her now. She held him, and after a few moments he told her.

"It's Ahsoka. She's in trouble, Padme. She's in big trouble, and she's all alone."

Padme felt it now, the fear and the guilt. She'd never told him, but Ahsoka being Anakin's padawan had made her feel strangely responsible for her as well. Her departure had broken her heart as well, though she'd had to bury her own grief to help Anakin with his.

"No…" she breathed, a quiet echo of Anakin's first scream.

She pressed her face into his hair, and they sat there together in the dark, silent but thinking identical thoughts. Ahsoka was not alone, not as long as they lived.


	2. The Dream Team

"I am sorry, but you can't be serious?"

Obi-wan stood in the center of the jedi counsel room. It was early morning on this part of Coruscant. The sun was just rising over the skyline, shining angrily through the large windows. Obi-wan had to squint as he stared aghast at Yoda.

The master made a noise of distaste, and Obi-wan focused on raining in his emotions.

"Pardon my outburst, masters. I just feel that we owe her at least this after what we put her through."

His eyes drifted over to the hologram of Master Plo Koon, asking silently for support.

"She left the jedi order of her own free will," said Mace Windu, "to divert resources from the war effort to chase some dream of Anakin's is irresponsible."

"Now," Plo Koon interjected, "to dismiss visions as dreams is something I would not have expected from his council."

"Hmm," Yoda scratched his chin, "clouded by emotion, Skywalker's visions are."

"But Master," Obi-wan protested, "I felt it too. I was awake before Anakin came to find me."

Murmurs spread around the room. Obi-wan knew that waking in the early hours of morning with a bad feeling in his gut was not conclusive proof, but when Anakin had told him what he'd seen Obi-wan had known it to be true.

"Highly train, and intelligent, Ahsoka is," said Yoda. "Take care of herself, she can."

"I'm sorry Master Kenobi," Mace said, "be we just can't spare you, or Anakin for that matter. Trouble is brewing on Ringo Vinda and many of our main supply routes have fallen to the separatists."

Obi-wan knew an impasse when he saw it. After all, this was the same council which had pushed Ahsoka away in the first place. This time, however, he swore he would not be complacent.

"Understood masters," he bowed. "If there is no more business to attend to today…" He looked towards the door.

"Go, you may," Yoda released him.

Much to his surprise, he stepped from the council chamber to see the familiar, blue-painted helmet of Rex.

"Captain," Obi-wan greeted him. "What brings you to the temple?"

"Actually," the clone trooper shifted uncomfortably, "I was looking for you, or General Skywalker." He removed his helmet, and Obi-wan instantly saw the worry in his eyes. "Word travels fast on Coruscant. If there is any sort of mission to rescue Commander Tano, I would like to formally volunteer my services. As, I'm sure, would any member of the 501st."

Obi-wan looked away. He started walking, making sure they were a good distance away from the door before he answered, as he knew he would be unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

"I just spoke with the council, there is to be no rescue mission. Commander Tano left the order by her own choice."

Obi-wan could tell the only thing keeping Rex from voicing his anger was the chain of command and a life of stringent brainwashing. Maybe he'd been spending too much time with Anakin, but Obi-wan couldn't help but confide in Rex.

"Though… I am not saying I agree with that decision. My loyalty has always been to the council, first and foremost. To be candid with you, Rex, I'm not sure what to do."

The two men walked in silence, and Obi-wan felt bad for putting the weight of his problems on the clone's shoulders.

Rex finally broke the silence, as they wound their way through the lower levels of the temple. "I can't imagine the burdens of a Jedi. Your responsibilities far exceed mine. I'm just a clone, there are millions like me. I'll go after her, though I won't ask any of my men to follow me. Many soldiers have defected… disappeared. To the republic my loss will be meaningless, but after how much time I've spent with General Skywalker I believe even on my own I may have a chance of helping her."

Obi-wan stopped dead in his tracks, still processing what Rex was saying. Even after all the time he'd spent commanding them he was still sometimes surprised by the level of free-thinking the clones were capable of. His shock must have been evident on his face, because he sensed that Rex was afraid, afraid that confiding in Obi-wan had ruined his chance of actually carrying out his ridiculous plan.

"Ahsoka Tano is not your responsibility," he said, not like a command but as a statement of fact, voice numb from shock.

Rex stood at attention before him, helmet held tight at his hip. Rex was always respectful, a good soldier, but there was a determination in his eyes as he stared the general down. "Sir, I have known that girl from the very first day she joined you and General Skywalker on the battlefield. I remember thinking how young she was, worrying that following General Skywalker would lead her into an early grave. Since then I have watched her grow up into one of the best warriors I have had the honour of fighting beside. The 501st is a family, and if she is truly in trouble I do not believe it is within my capability to stand idle."

"It is clear how much you care for her …"

"You'll allow me to go then? You can of course claim deniability."

A sort of clarity had settled over Obi-wan, clearing away the guilt he felt for allowing himself to form such strong attachments. "Yes Rex, but don't think for a second I'm not coming with you. Seeing you use your free will has reminded me of mine. I can't leave her any more than you can."

"Sir?" Rex exclaimed. "I would have expected a response like this from General Skywalker but you've surprised me."

It was then that Obi-wan realized that in all the excitement he'd forgotten an important and highly volatile piece of the puzzle. Anakin would not react well to news of the council's decision, and it was Obi-wan's gut response to keep him as far away from this mission as possible. He'd have to call him straight away.

Turning to Rex, he outlined the plan, "we're leaving today. Pack a bag and get some civilian clothes. Meet me at Tajura Space Port, we'll be leaving under the radar." He tapped the communicator on his wrist. "I'll be in contact."

Anakin was not answering on his communicator. Through some investigation, Obi-wan discovered that he and Rex had just missed him outside the council chambers. Sadly, news of the council's decision had already reached him. He knew his former Padawan well, and he was certain he planned to go after Ahsoka himself. He trick would be finding him before he left.

Padme Amidala's apartment was the third place he looked, knowing how much time Anakin spent there while he was on Coruscant. Much to his surprise, the senator was gone, leaving only C-3PO to answer the door. It was the clueless droid who gave him the clue he needed. Padme and Master Ani were on a 'secret senate sanctioned mission.' They'd left for the senate building. He'd just missed them.

Obi-wan cursed Anakin for dragging the senator into this, but he knew he shouldn't have been surprised. This wasn't the first ill-fated rescue mission the pair had attempted. Anakin's current actions did not surprise him, but he had though Padme had grown wiser since that time. Memories of Geonosis rushed back to him as he called Rex.

"Change of plans. Meet me in the senate hanger bay. Quickly, if we are to catch General Skywalker before he leaves. He hasn't been answering my communications."

There was a stifled laugh on the other end. "Pardon me, General. I'll give it a try. He might answer my communication."

It irked Obi-wan a little to realize the truth in this. "Try if you will, just get there."

He'd left his light travel pack in his speeder, and got lucky with the fickle Coruscant traffic, making it to the senate building in record time. As he entered the nearly deserted landing bay however, it became clear that Rex had beaten him there. Padme's ship stood ready to depart, three figures standing near the ramp.

"I was surprised to hear you'd be joining us, Master," Anakin said, from under the hood of his robe. "I thought the council had made its decision."

In truth he was happy to have Obi-wan by his side, but his master's presence meant he had to concentrate on his emotions. He knew Obi-wan could feel them swirling around him, and right now that was just one more thing he had to worry about.

"I said we should have told him, Anakin," Padme hissed. "He cares about her too."

"Despite what you might believe," Obi-wan began, unbeknownst to Anakin facing a problem which was quite similar, "the Jedi council is not a hive mind. I will do everything within my power to find Ahsoka, I assure you of that, however I'm not sure if it's wise for you to accompany us. You are much too close to this. Your emptions cloud your judgment. The council has assigned you a new mission, am I correct?"

"It doesn't matter," Anakin said. "And you must know already that nothing you say will do anything to deter me."

"So it's settled then," said Padme, the role of diplomat coming naturally to her. "It appears we are all here because we care about Ahsoka. We have a common goal, I say we stop wasting time and get out there."

"And you are sure you wish to accompany us, Senator Amidala?" Obi-wan asked. "We cannot guarantee your safety, and I know it must be difficult to tear yourself away from her duties here. Not to mention, disobeying the Jedi order is bound to have consequences."

She stared him down with a ferocity he'd almost forgotten she possessed, and he was transported back to the confused Padawan he'd been when he'd first met her on Naboo, before he'd even known who she was.

"She saved my life. I can say with certainty that I would not be here with you today if it had not been for Ahsoka. She would have made a spectacular Jedi." For a moment Padme's voice had been venomous. "Not to mention, it's my ship, my credits, and my connections we're using so I don't think leaving me behind would be the best tactical move."

Anakin met his eyes and raised both brows. He must have already tried. Padme stared him down as well, wishing Obi-wan could read her thoughts in her eyes. Look at him, they said, I couldn't have let him go alone.

"I never said I planned to, my lady," Obi-wan gave a little bow. "Now from the sounds of it it would appear you two already have a plan. Care to catch Rex and I up on the ship?"

On a certain level, Obi-wan was grateful that things had turned out this way. He hadn't had much of a plan. He and Rex would have headed to Zygerria; the race of the abductors the only thing of relevance Anakin had shared about his vision.

Rex, who had stayed silent through the entire confrontation, was the first up the ramp. He was almost unrecognizable in his civilian garb. Clones on leave on Coruscant did venture out into the city. Some, like Rex, did not always enjoy the recognition that came with their shared face. He wore a long brown coat, the shirt underneath plated with a discrete kind of light armour. On his head he wore a brimmed hat which cast a shadow over his eyes. The only thing familiar about his outfit were the two blasters he wore on his waist: republic issue beauties he couldn't have brought himself to leave behind. In truth, he looked much more like a bounty hunter than a clone trooper.

"Looking good, Captain," Anakin said. "You'll blend right in out in the outer rim."

Rex tipped his hat. "Much appreciated, General."

Padme went to set an autopilot course for Lyran. She wasn't much of a pilot, and Anakin's skills would be needed for the landing, but it was her ship damn it, and she knew how to work an autonav, which was what she would have said had anyone protested.

Obi-wan watched out the window as the lights of Coruscant receded below them, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was unsure if it came from worry for Ahsoka, or guilt about disobeying a direct order, or both. He could not unwind the twisted knot of his emotions, a problem which was uncommon for the Jedi master. He had not felt lost like this in a long time, not since a master had been ripped away and an apprentice shoved too quickly into his place. He needed to meditate, but could not tear himself away from the window. He would take the time later, after he'd heard what Padme and Anakin had planned.

"Master?" Anakin placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Obi-wan looked up in surprise. He hadn't sensed his approach. They were alone in the sitting room, Rex having gone to join Padme in the cabin.

"I'm well enough."

Anakin sat beside him on the couch. "I know you're worried for her too, I can feel it."

Obi-wan didn't respond at first, staring out into the familiar, calming texture of space. When finally he spoke, it was with a serenity so practiced had it not been for the hum of the force it could have fooled even Anakin.

"I suppose you're correct."

"That's alright." Anakin placed a hand on his shoulder, staring at him until Obi-wan was forced to meet his eyes. "To feel things, I mean. If I've learned anything it's that every being in this galaxy feels, even if the emotions take different forms. I'm sure every Jedi who's ever lived has had emotions… even you Master," he teased, trying to get a witty jab it return. "Sure, we must control them, but first we must acknowledge that they are there. I think Master Yoda told me that."

This reversal of roles had only added to the strange feeling in Obi-wan's gut, but all the same Anakin's words had helped to center him.

"Perhaps you're correct. It appears that it is you who has something to teach me, for a change. I just wish I knew if it was the right lesson."

"Am I interrupting something?" Padme asked, leaning against the doorframe.

She entered the room with Rex close behind her, and R2-D2 trailing behind them both. He'd already been on the ship when Obi-wan had arrived, an obvious addition to the mission.

"Not at all," Obi-wan answered.

Mutually they broke the moment, moving simultaneously away from each other just a little.

"Perfect!" Padme took a seat in the bowl shaped chair opposite the couch. "Let's fill them in, Ani."

After a few hours in the archives, Anakin had managed to identify the planet from his vision with a good degree of certainty. It had been the outer rim planet of Korono, previously Hutt controlled space, the sector had recently fallen to The Separatists. The planet itself had, thus far, remained untouched by conflict. That made it a prime destination for refugees in that part of the galaxy, and there were a lot of them, since The Separatists had taken many of the surrounding systems by force.

Due to the unsanctioned nature of their mission, the plan was to stay as under the radar as was possible. That meant no lightsabers unless it was absolutely necessary. It also meant they would be going in as refugees.

"It worked the last time," Anakin said, sharing a knowing look with Padme.

"Yes," Obi-wan added, his previous mood almost completely gone, "it worked fantastically until the pair of you decided to go do who knows what with no regard for the plan."

It was Padme who delivered the response required to continue the banter, for Anakin had fallen silent. Obi-wan had never found out why they'd left Naboo for Tatooine, or what darkness mention of this would drag Anakin back into.

"Next time we won't bother coming to rescue you then," she said, with a smirk.

"Oh… because that worked out so well."

To get onto the correct refugee ship with identities which had any chance of fooling The Separatists they would be relying on an old friend of Padme's. Her name was Ster, and she was a member of one of Lyran's leading families. It was the main planet in Korono's sector, and held a tenuous new place in The Separatist parliament. Padme had secured vital aid for Ster's section of the planet many years ago, after the eruptions of terrible methane volcanoes had devastated the population.

"This could very likely be a trap," Obi-wan said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Does she know you plan to smuggle Jedi into Separatist space?"

Padme shook her head. "She only knows it's a personal mission, unsanctioned by the senate. She didn't ask many questions. In her mind, she owes me a debt, though I was only doing my duty."

"To a planet in the outer rim, help from the galactic senate must have seemed like a miracle," said Anakin.

"Doesn't mean it isn't a trap," said Rex.

"No," Obi-wan agreed, "it does not guarantee anything. Though it appears, at the moment, to be the best plan we have."

"I have faith in Ster," Padme said, "she is an honorable woman."

It turned out that Padme's trust was well placed. Their stay on the surface of Lyran was brief and uneventful. Ster had their documents waiting for them when they arrived, and they left the ship with her, taking only what they could carry on their backs.

They stayed in Ster's palace only long enough to transform themselves into refugees. Rex was fine was he was, but the other three had to make themselves look slightly less wealthy. Obi-wan and Anakin kept their robes, though changed into simple woolen tunics underneath. Padme wore something similar, aside from the faded shall she wrapped around her head. She also wore a pilot's jacket which had been made for someone larger than she.

Ster was a beautiful blonde woman dressed all in silks, and as Padme thanked her she kissed her on both cheeks.

"Be safe, Senator Amidala," she pleaded. "The streets of Lyran are a rough place right now, and Korono is no better."

"I will, Ster, I promise."

Compared to a lot of the outer rim the architecture on Lyran was aesthetically pleasing, or at least it had been. They liked stained glass, and domed roofs, though not much of that remained. The battle for Lyran had not just been in space. There are been clones with boots on the ground here, and probably a Jedi general as well; though no one could remember who off of the top of their head. It was clear now, walking through the aftermath, what contact with the clone war really meant for a civilization.

Sure the class structure here had been stringent, the ruling families ruthless as any form of government had to be to survive near Hutt space. But the people had had roofs over their head and food on their tables. To Anakin, this was the work of the evil Separatists. The heroic Jedi had fallen just short of saving these people. But as Obi-wan walked through the ruins he was plagues by doubts about the war, as he often was. He had fought in many battles like the one which had devastated this city. Win or lose, after it was over he was back on the ship on the way to the next crisis.

On the battlefield the buildings they passed wouldn't have been homes. They would have been cover, or a place in which the enemies could be lurking. So this is what they left in their wake: refugees and rubble.

"So here's the story," said Padme, shoving the stack of papers she'd been reading into her bag. "We were all factory workers here on Lyran. According to these documents Anakin and Obi-wan are brothers. It also appears, Anakin, that I am your wife." She did not pause or flinch in any way. As a politician, Padme's poker face was flawless. "Rex also appears to have the same last name as the rest of us. What are you feeling Rex? Cousin? Uncle?"

"I think I'll take cousin."

"Wait," Obi-wan interjected, "will we be going by fake names? I think that may have been worth mentioning earlier."

"Only the last one. We're the Duura family. Generals Skywalker and Kenobi might be recognizable names, but no one had heard of Anakin and Obi-wan. I'm sorry Rex, I know this is going to be hard for you, but that means you're going to have to drop the formalities."

"Senator?"

Padme laughed, though she was honestly unsure if he'd been joking or not. "Not anymore. And while we're on this mission these two aren't generals. I'm afraid you're going to have to call us by our first names."

Rex looked genuinely distraught for a moment. He wasn't an idiot, but had Padme not reminded him of this directly he realized that there was a good chance he would have made the mistake on instinct.

"Give it a go then," Anakin said. "I don't think I've ever heard you say my first name."

He snickered, and Rex had to resist the urge to role his eyes.

"Don't worry, Anakin," he recovered quickly, "I'm sure I'll be able to manage. Who knows, maybe I'll enjoy being freed from the chain of command."

"Oh, this should be fun," joked Obi-wan. "I know what it's like to work closely with Anakin. There must be all sorts of comments you've been repressing."

"Of course not," Rex said, clearly sarcastic. "Every one of the general's—urhm," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry… Anakin's decisions is carefully planned beforehand. What could I possibly have to complain about?"

What Rex hadn't realized was that he'd just stepped through a very dangerous door. No more could he be silent while the other three bantered. He'd just made himself a target.

"Thanks Rex," said Anakin, picking up on the shift in the group dynamic. "That's much appreciated. Just to make sure you've got it down, why don't you run through them all once. I know pronunciation can be a bit difficult."

"Padme," Rex tipped his hat to her, and she grinned. "Ani…"

His wife had to suppress a laugh behind her hands.

"Don't push it, soldier," Anakin muttered.

"R2." Rex looked down at the droid that trundled beside them, over the uneven ground.

Turning to Obi-wan, Rex hesitated for a moment. He had teased Anakin before, and when he'd first met the young Jedi he had still been apprenticed to Obi-wan. Anakin was an incredible warrior, but reckless and flawed. In Rex's mind, Obi-wan was close to infallible. He was a legend among the clones, like Yoda or Master Windu.

"Obi-wan." He nodded respectfully.

"Glad to have you along, Rex," the Jedi master said. "I don't know if I could have survived this mission being stuck with only these two."

"Here's to the dream team," said Padme. "Together there isn't a force in the galaxy that can keep Ahsoka from us."


	3. Not Getting Involved

Near the center of the half destroyed city, the team joined a throng of other refugees heading for the same ship they were. The mood here was more somber. Exhausted people dressed in rags trudged in mostly silence, heads bowed. It was sad to think that all they owned they carried on them. The population of Lyran was mostly human, but there were some other species mixed in sporadically.

In a group of around a hundred they boarded a small shuttle which would take them to the orbiting refugee ship. It would stop at a few more major cities on the planet then lunar colonies on two different moons before departing for Korono. These lunar cities had been devastated especially badly. They'd been prime targets for attack because of their strategic importance.

Because of this, the entire journey would take two full sleep cycles, though Korono was not that far.

"It was the best way," Anakin said to Padme, although it was himself he was reassuring. "I know it's the only way we can get in close enough to find her, but it just feels like we're wasting time."

She rubbed his shoulders, the cover of husband and wife soothing the worry a little, of what Rex and Obi-wan might think if they saw. Their other two teammates were not actually in the room at the moment. They'd gone out to explore the ship, leaving them in the bunk room. Not that it was private. It was cramped, and smelly. You could barely walk single file down the aisle, and the bunks were stacked four high, leaving the top bunks so close to the rusting metal roof that you had to be careful not to hit your head when you got up.

Anakin knew this from the surprisingly unique string of profanities Rex had released earlier that evening as he'd investigated his sleeping arrangements. It was needless to say he and Padme would be sleeping in separate bunks.

"It'll be alright," Padme soothed. "If there is anyone that can pull this off, it's us. I meant what I said back on Lyran."

She scooted forward so that she sat beside him on the edge of her bottom bunk. He looked at her, so much love in his eyes. In that moment all his admiration and adoration rushed back to him, and it was not something he could hide. But just as quickly as the moment had arrived it was gone again, buried under a mountain of worry.

"I don't want to list our resume in the present company," Padme continued, now whispering close to his ear, "but the three of you are some of the most elite warriors in all the republic, and that's a statement of fact. Ahsoka has a lot of good people who care about her."

"And its finest diplomat," Anakin murmured back. "Not to mention, you can handle yourself in battle. Neither I nor Obi-wan, I'm sure, would have felt comfortable bringing you if we hadn't known how good you are with a blaster. Not…" he spoke this last part with more force, "that I will let them get close enough to you that you'll have to use it."

Padme looked up towards the door, and Anakin followed her gaze. Obi-wan and Rex were back.

"You know," Rex said, as he approached them. "It's not good for you to sit here and mope. There's a canteen down a couple levels. I say we go check it out to help pass the time. Your master is already onboard."

Rex had said it quietly, and the surrounding bunks were empty, but Padme still looked around frantically for any sign someone had heard.

"That sounds like a great idea, cousin Rex," she said, by way of reminder.

At this point Rex had already come to the conclusion that he was more cut out for being a soldier than a spy or a Jedi. All the same, he was enjoying this mission surprisingly much. Maybe it was the team. Padme got to her feet, looking down at Anakin expectantly.

"You three go ahead," he said. "I think I'll stay here and meditate."

"If you truly meant meditate, and not stew in your worry," said Obi-wan, "then I would let you be." He took his old Padawan gently by the arm. "Come on Anakin, there is nothing we can do at the moment, so we might as well go have a little fun for once."

"Great idea, Rex," Padme said. "I've travelled with these two before. They're not the type to think of going for a drink."

The canteen was on the bottom level of the ship. Down here was also the meagre mess hall and tragically understocked medical bay. There was no charity here. These people had to pay for their food and drink, just as they they'd had to pay for their spot on the ship. The canteen itself looked like any dimly lit, outer rim dive, except that the main material used for construction was metal. Every once in a while the old ship would shake, rattling the bottles and sending the chandeliers swinging.

It was crowded with broken people drinking to the loss of their homes, but the group still managed to secure a booth. Anakin had a glare which, whether it was intentional or not, cleared people from his path.

Padme had volunteered to get the first round. At the bar she picked up four stacked shot glasses and a tall, thin jug of local rum. Sitting on the stools, just a little ways down the bar were a trandoshan and a heavily tattooed human man. They were a rowdy pair, drinking some unknown liquid from large mugs. Many people on this ship were bound to be in possession of weapons, but these two didn't even bother to conceal theirs. They both wore large blasters on their hips, prominently displayed.

It was with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Obi-wan watched them approach Padme. The trandoshan put a clawed hand on her waist. As he spoke his long tongue flickered outside his mouth, though Obi-wan could not make out what he was saying. Anakin had not yet noticed, but that wouldn't last long.

Padme took a step back, setting the jug back on the counter. Anakin had noticed. He went to get up, face hardened into a scowl. Obi-wan grabbed his arm, holding up one finger, begging for patients. However he did not like the look of these two, and was fully aware that intervention might be necessary. Padme had not broken eye contact with the slitted reptilian eyes of the trandoshan. She said something then, moving her jacket slightly. She'd exposed the small blaster they knew she kept strapped to her side.

The human man started to laugh hysterically, and the trandoshan snarled, but they let her be as Padme carried over their drinks. She slid into the semi-circular booth on the other side of Anakin from Obi-wan.

No one spoke of her brief encounter though Anakin glared daggers at the offenders as they continued to go about their business.

"Starting us off with the strong stuff, Padme?" Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, pouring himself a shot. "I'm not sure that's the best idea after the last time Anakin and I drank on the job."

"Wait, are you talking about…?" Rex cut himself off, but there was a tight lipped smile on his face.

"Hondo," Anakin snarled, catching onto Obi-wan's train of thought.

His response had been so genuinely angry both Obi-wan and Rex burst out laughing.

Padme, at first, looked confused, but as realization hit her she began to laugh as well. "Oh my god, that was the time… the time with Jar Jar! He rescued you."

"That wasn't funny," Anakin grunted.

"No," Obi-wan agreed, still suppressing laughter, "it wasn't."

Obi-wan had poured them all a shot, leaving them in the center of the table. "Shall we?"

They toasted to a good outcome to their mission. The conversation continuing along in the same vein. Both Rex and Padme were eager to hear the previously undisclosed details of Obi-wan, Anakin, and Count Dooku's tenure as Hondo's prisoners.

"So," Padme gasped, so short of breath from laughter that she could barely speak, "you're telling me that you weren't drugged? You switched your drinks, but then got so drunk they captured you anyways!"

They were one more shot and a story in, and for the moment even Anakin's worries had been forgotten. Rex had to turn away to hide his laughter, still not completely able to tease the pair of generals to such a degree.

"Well…" said Obi-wan, "when you put it like that…"

"Ani! You didn't tell me that." Padme punched him in the arm.

She grabbed a tight hold of his shoulder, burying her face against his cloak for a moment as she got a hold of herself.

"I was hoping to avoid it," he said, though even he had a smile on his face.

Even as they enjoyed each other's company, it was difficult to completely ignore what was happening in the canteen around them. The trandoshan and his tattooed friend had not gone anywhere. In fact, they'd made themselves rather the center of attention. They seemed to be making their rounds so that everyone in the place had to deal with their obnoxious presence for some amount of time.

For example, they made a new friend by settling down on either side of a young man alone at the bar. Whether it was their charming personalities, or something else, he ended up buying them a round before leaving the canteen a little too quickly. When they tripped an elderly man, sending him, along with his pitcher of beer, crashing to the floor Anakin reacted. He slammed his fist against the table, shaking the pitcher of something called dreg Obi-wan had just set down.

Rex, who followed Anakin's gaze, said, "those two are really begging for a fist to the face."

"Now, you two don't get any ideas," said Obi-wan. "I want those criminals to get what's coming to them as much as you, but if we want to save Ahsoka we have to keep a low profile. No matter what we see, we can't get involved."

All of them had been drinking for quite some time. It was a miracle that even Obi-wan had kept his judgment.

"You hear me, Anakin?" he asked, grabbing hold of the younger Jedi's shoulder.

Anakin was still staring intently off into the canteen.

"Anakin?" he whispered into his ear. "Anyone there?"

Surprising everyone, especially Obi-wan, Anakin swung an arm around his master's shoulders with a genuine smile on his face. Obi-wan was immobilized in what was a cross between a headlock and a hug.

"Don't worry, Master," he slurred, "not getting involved is my speciality."

He tousled Obi-wan's hair like they really were siblings. Rex burst out laughing, and Padme cooed.

"Aw, you guys are adorable."

Obi-wan wiggled free, and flattened his hair as best as possible. "That was rather undignified."

They were slowing down in their consumption of alcohol. The dreg was something a lot like wine which was made from a local fermented root. It was much weaker than the rum they'd been drinking previously.

This period of peace lasted not much more than ten minutes, before they saw it. In an alcove off the canteen, not too far from where they were sitting, the briefly forgotten pair of troublemakers had cornered a woman. She was young, maybe even a little younger than Padme, and she looked terrified. She made a break for it, attempting to push past them. The trandoshan grabbed her roughly by the arm, slamming her against the wall.

All it took was a squeeze of Anakin's fist. The chandelier in the alcove exploded violently. There were screams. A piece of glass cut the tattooed man across the cheek. In the commotion, the girl managed to make it to the door.

Obi-wan was staring at Anakin open mouthed. He'd been so subtle, that if it hadn't been for this Rex and Padme may not even have realized.

"Oh, come on," Anakin taunted, "no one saw. What was the harm? You can't say I shouldn't have helped her."

Suddenly, though only for a moment, it was if Obi-wan was completely sober. "That was stupid, and reckless."

Anakin did not back down, his drunken confidence oozing from every pour. He leaned down so that he and Obi-wan were eye to eye, staring him down. Anakin was uncomfortably close. Obi-wan could feel his breath.

"That may be truth. But you're glad I did… on some level, aren't you?"

He straightened back up, smiling knowingly at Padme and Rex.

Padme was too gone to pick up on the tension of the situation. "Someone had to, you know? It's just the decent thing to do."

"Yeah," Rex admitted, "I've been fighting the urge to get up and teach them some manners for almost an hour now."

Anakin's smile widened to a full grin, and he started to laugh a little. "I mean, look at them."

He was looking over to where the tattooed man was still swearing over the tiny scratch on his cheek. And suddenly, just like that, the tension was gone and all three of them were laughing. Rex gave Obi-wan a playful tap with his elbow. Realizing for the first time how drunk he had allowed himself to become, the Jedi master knew he did not have as much control over the situation as he would have liked to maintain.

But the conversation moved on, more dreg was consumed, and soon the shattered lamp was all but forgotten. Obi-wan and Anakin had begun trying to swear Rex to secrecy. The commander knew much too much about them. Specifically, how exactly they'd been captured by Hondo and his pirates.

"But it's such a good story," Rex said, the alcohol having removed most of his previous inhibitions, "I just know the boys would enjoy it."

"Rex," scolded Obi-wan, using the best disapproving teacher voice he could manage in his current state. "You're a good friend. I'm sure you wouldn't betray what we told you in confidence."

Rex looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe just Cody then… I know it would mean so much to him."

Obi-wan decided to try a new tactic. "Don't tell Cody. That's…" He cleared his throat, making it comically deep and gravely, sounding not at all like himself. "That's an order, trooper."

"Trooper?" Rex feigned surprise. "Cousin Obi-wan, what do you mean?"

Padme, who had been resting her head on the table, sat back up at this, and began to giggle.

Anakin was looking at Rex intently, and the clone met his gaze, waiting for his response. Anakin moved his hand into view above the table. "You will not tell Cody a—"

"Oh my force, Anakin, no!" Obi-wan practically tackled him.

Letting out a squeak, Padme slid to the far end of the booth. Anakin was pinned against the booth by Obi-wan's body weight, partially by accident.

"Calm down! Calm down! I was joking, I swear."

The pair righted themselves, to find Padme and Rex still laughing. Anakin shoved Obi-wan away with an exaggerate motion.

"All joking aside," said Rex, good-naturedly, "I would not forgive you for that."

"Guys," Padme hissed, her demeanor suddenly serious.

The two people they did not want to be walking towards their table were walking towards their table.

"Hello, again," the trandoshan addressed Padme directly. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."

He sat down beside her, slinging an arm over her shoulder.

"Remove that or you won't have anything to remove," Padme spat.

"Woah, sorry about that," he hissed, doing as she asked. "Chill out, we're just trying to socialize."

While the other man had not attempted to sit down next to Rex, he leaned on the table, staring intently at his face with a curious expression. Rex looked away, adjusting his hat so that neither of the men could get a good look at him.

"You all seem like you're having a good time over here," the trandoshan continued. "We thought we'd come introduce ourselves. I'm Ztherr and this is Rel."

"Did you want something from us?" Obi-wan asked.

"Just looking for some new friends," said Rel, his attention having been diverted from Rex to Obi-wan.

"Well I'm not sure if we're the right fit." Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. "I'd suggest moving along. Go bother some other patrons."

"Now that's just rude." Ztherr did not appear to be planning to get up. He grabbed Padme's cup of dreg, taking a deep gulp. "I'm not sure if we can stand for this sort of negativity bringing down the mood of the party."

"You haven't made the best first impression," said Obi-wan, "though normally I'd be willing enough to have a conversation. It's just that, my brother here isn't in the most stable of moods tonight."

Whether Anakin was just playing along or genuinely contemplating murder, it was hard to tell, but the look he was giving them made even Ztherr falter for a moment.

"He didn't like the way you were talking to his wife, earlier," Obi-wan continued. "I do my best to keep him out of trouble," he gave Anakin a knowing look, "but you two really aren't making that easy."

"Fine," the trandoshan hissed, "we can take a hint."

He turned to leave, and Rel followed, though he protested as they walked away. "Why are we afraid of that guy?"

"It's not worth it to start something with them. It's four against two and that whole group gives me the heebie-jeebies."

The mood of the night changed when a band arrived to play live music. They were refugees just like everyone else, but they had their instruments with them and used their talent to bring everyone around them joy. So many refugees had been picked up now, that the party spilled from the canteen out into the bottom hallway. People were milling around, socializing, no longer confined to their family groups. It was this part of the night which would blur together in their memories the next morning.

 **A/N: Sorry for the filler nature of this chapter. The refugee ship arc was originally supposed to be one chapter, but it's getting so long I decided to post the first half. Also, since I haven't said it yet, thank you all so much for the reads and comments, and such. It means a lot to know I'm not just telling this story for my own benefit.**


	4. Getting Involved

Obi-wan and Anakin had somehow ended up out in the hallway. Anakin had somehow gotten hold of a broom. He held it like a lightsaber, stance perfect despite the alcohol he'd ingested.

"On guard," he challenged.

"Oh, Anakin, no."

But Anakin struck out, and Obi-wan dodged on instinct. With an intense look of concentration, Anakin continued in his attempt to land a blow. Obi-wan had no weapon, but he was fast and Anakin had thus far been unsuccessful. He jumped over, then dodged under so close that the handle of the broom brushed through the tip of his beard. He danced around Anakin on the balls of his feet.

"You're going to get tired of this eventually," said Obi-wan. "I say quit while you're ahead."

The sparring stopped momentarily as the two men circled each other. Some bystanders were watching, cheering them on. There was an artistic way to how the two Jedi moved, like they were dancing.

"How about this?" Anakin asked. "I hit you and you have to take one of those flaming shots with me."

"I already said no. If I get any drunker who will stop the three of you from doing anything stupid."

Anakin's only response was to swing the broom at Obi-wan's chest. Startled, the Jedi master jumped back just in time.

"Don't lose your focus," Anakin teased.

Back in the canteen, Padme was engaging in civilized conversation with several nice woman she'd met. Rex had just wandered over to the bar. He was less of a lightweight than the two Jedi as he drank more regularly. The 501st would go out together whenever they were on leave. He'd just sat down and was waiting for the bartender to make his way over, when Rel sat down next to him.

He was dark skinned, and the curling tattoos which covered his face and shaved head came in both white and black. They altered his appearance to such an extent that he looked barely human.

"I thought I recognized your face," he said, and Rex stiffened. "Now I'm sure. You're a clone, aren't you?"

"I've gotten that before, but no."

"Oh, come on," Rel rolled his eyes. "Do I look like the sort to turn you over to the Republic?"

"So what if I am, then?" Rex conceded.

"It's just curious, what you're trying to do. Did they mess up with our programming or something?"

Rex didn't dignify that with a response.

"Who are they, those people you're traveling with?" Rel pushed. "Do they know?"

"Of course. They're my family."

Rel laughed, and Rex's self-control began slipping. "That's so adorable. You think you're a person."

It wasn't so much of a conscious decision as an automatic response. Rex punched Rel square in the face.

Suddenly the canteen was in an uproar. Rex didn't have time to look around for his companions, because Rel was coming back at him. He went for his face, and Rex easily caught his wrist. When the tattooed man swung his other arm around, Rex caught this as well. Before he could shove Rel away from him a knee buried itself in his gut. As Rex stumbled backwards, doubled over, a square kick to the shoulder send him crashing to the ground.

Rex rolled easily to the side, as Rel went to kick him. Deciding to end this quickly Rex grabbed one of his blasters. He was drunk, but he knew his aim would be true.

"So we're going there are we?" Rel asked, drawing his blaster as well. "Leave it to a clone not to fight like a man."

Getting to his feet, Rex took the bait. He flung both his blasters to the side, beckoning at Rel to come at him.

The man feigned surprise. "What an idiot," he taunted. "Now there's nothing stopping me from blowing your brains out."

Rex tackled him, slamming Rel against the bar. They grappled for control of the weapon, and a blast was sent off inadvertently, denting the metal ceiling. Rex squeezed Rel's wrist, and he was forced to release the blaster. It clattered to the floor behind the bar.

"Stand and fight me like a clone," Rex hissed, punching Rel in the face.

That was when the fight sped up. Rex was a highly trained combat veteran, but Rel was obviously no stranger to a fight either. What he was doing on a refugee ship was unknown, but it was obvious he'd done something in his past which would have required combat: like a smuggler or even a bounty hunter.

They blocked each other's blows, barely ever landing a hit. The whole canteen was watching. There were cheers and shouts, mostly in Rex's favour. As Rel swung for his face again, Rex dropped low and drove an elbow into his gut. Then he uppercut, fist connecting with the soft skin under his chin. Rel's head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground. Rex put a foot on his chest, smiling down smugly.

There were cheers from the patrons as they had been putting up with the troublemakers all night.

"Look out!" someone yelled, but it was too late.

Ztherr had stepped out of the crowd, striking Rex in the back. He wore what had appeared to be a normal black glove, but when his hand touched Rex's back it delivered a stored electrical charge. The clone's body convulsed, dropping to the floor. There were boos from the crowed, but Ztherr brandished his blaster, barring his fangs at them. The glove could only store enough energy for one use. It would be unusable until it was recharged.

Anakin had entered the room about a minute before the end of the fight. Up to this point, he had been watching proudly, not interfering as he knew Rex would want to finish what he'd started. After the dirty move the trandoshan had just pulled, however, he knew even Obi-wan couldn't say intervention wasn't necessary. He was drunk, running on adrenaline and bravado. Silently, he thanked Rex for giving him a reason.

Ztherr had caught Rex's falling body in a headlock. Though he was already unconscious, Rel punched him in the stomach as he got to his feet. The human man's eyes widened as Anakin stepped forward into the circle which had formed around the combatants.

Before either could react Anakin went for the hand of Ztherr's which held the blaster. Pointing it forcibly towards the ceiling, he punched him in the face. The metal of his hand collided with Ztherr's scaly snout, and he went down. The blaster clattered to the floor, and Anakin kicked it away. No simple punch could have broken the trandoshan's tough hide, but when Ztherr looked up his face was marred with blood.

"You've made a mistake," Anakin hissed, only to have the words knocked right out of his mouth.

Ztherr had not stayed down as long as he'd expected. Instead he'd charged, head colliding with Anakin's chest. Anakin slid backwards across the floor—the crowd breaking hurriedly to let them pass—until he was slammed hard against the wall. This was going to be more difficult than he'd expected, but Anakin wasn't fazed.

Grabbing a good hold of Ztherr's shoulders he flipped him, slamming the trandoshan against the ground, looking up just in time to dodge the punch Rel flung at him. Smoothly he slid under the man's arm, driving an elbow into his gut then slamming his metal fist backwards into his face. Rel stumbled back, face now bloody as well. From the ground Ztherr grabbed his leg, and suddenly Anakin's face was making hard contact with the metal floor. He rolled to the side, Ztherr's clawed foot slamming down where he'd been seconds before.

Anakin wanted more than anything to unsheathe the lightsaber which was hidden strapped to his back, but even drunk he was not that stupid. Jumping nimbly to his feet he high-kicked Ztherr in the neck, at the same time blocking Rel's attack from the other side. Grabbing hold of both Rel's arms, he threw him as hard as he could, using the momentum to put more distance between himself and Ztherr.

As a human, Anakin did not naturally have this kind of strength. What enabled him to lift the larger man, or even the trandoshan was a subtle use of the force. It was a technique he had never been required to use before, and he was inventing and refining it as he fought. He worked on infusing small force pushes into his blows. If he was doing this right then no one in the room should be able to tell, aside for Obi-wan of course. Anakin knew he'd entered the room after he'd already engaged in the fight. His master either thought he could handle it, or was waiting until he truly needed help to teach him a lesson. It would be the first, he would insure that.

He'd been so involved in fighting Ztherr—who was a highly skilled brawler—he'd almost completely stopped paying attention to Rel. A minute or so earlier he'd delivered a few direct punches to the human's face, and it had appeared he had gone down for good.

It was the force that warned him. Rel had picked one of Rex's blasters off of the ground. At the same moment that he pulled the trigger Anakin jumped to the side, sliding over the top of the bar. As he dropped to the floor behind it, the shot missed his head by only centimeters.

He was cornered. Use of the force had pushed most of the alcohol from his system and he realized now that Obi-wan had been right. This was a mistake. It had escalated too quickly. He could not utilize his entire skillset without revealing them, and a full on firefight was a bad idea with the number of civilians packed together so tightly. All the same, he crawled towards where Rel had dropped his gun.

Suddenly there was the sound of blaster fire ricocheting off of the metal ceiling.

"Enough!" someone barked.

Cautiously, gun clutched in hand, Anakin peered over the top of the bar. The bartender stood in the doorway, with him several of the ship's crew. They all carried large blasters. Behind them was Obi-wan.

"I am the captain of this ship," boomed a grey haired man with an impressive beard, "and this is the one and only warning I will be giving. Any more fighting of any kind will result in those involved being left on Cafra. You are on my ship, and if you wish to reach Korono you will follow my rules."

Ztherr and Rel were steaming, but Anakin could sense he was safe. Standing up, he placed Rel's gun on the bar.

"Trade back?" he asked. "I know my cousin is rather partial to that blaster."

He could see how close Rel was to shooting him, and tensed in case he'd misjudged the situation. Ztherr leaned in, whispering something in his partner's ear. With a grunt of frustration, Rel slammed the pistol down on the bar, grabbing his own weapon before heading for the door. The pair shoved disrespectfully past the crew, disappearing into the bowls of the ship.

"Sorry about the mess," Anakin apologized to the bartender sheepishly, looking behind him at the shattered wall of bottles.

"I'm not going to lie and say those two weren't asking for it," the man grunted. "But I know your type: headstrong, looking for a fight. You're as much trouble as they are."

To that, there was nothing Anakin could say. On the floor, Rex was coming to. Before going to him Anakin left some credits on the bar. The bartender was right. He'd been looking for a fight, and for that he felt shame.

"How you feeling?" Anakin asked, offering Rex his hand.

The captain's only response was a grunt, but he accepted the help getting to his feet.

Suddenly Padme was beside them as well. "Are you two alright?" her voice was heavy with worry, and Anakin's guilt only increased.

"Don't worry about us," Rex scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "We're just a couple of soldiers who don't know how to stop fighting." He looked at Anakin. "Isn't that right?"

The following conversation with Obi-wan was rather uncomfortable for both the clone and his general. Thankfully the master was still drunk, and his attitude was more unsurprised than outright reprimanding. Rex attempted to absolve Anakin of blame, explaining he had started the fight, though it was mostly unsuccessful.

"We got lucky," Obi-wan said, "the force seems to have been on our side tonight, but this sort of thing can't happen again."

There were no arguments from anyone.

The man who Ztherr and Rel and tripped earlier that night bought them a pitcher of dreg with a few other bystanders, which they accepted grudgingly. The mood was less lighthearted now but they sat and talked as they drank, not wishing to leave an overall pleasant night on such a bad note.

Padme carried the conversation which stayed mostly on the interesting characters who dwelt in and around the galactic senate. The pitcher was nearing empty when she began to feel sick to her stomach. She did not think she would throw up, but the room was certainly spinning a little, and the previously pleasing music was starting to hurt her head. The boys just kept on drinking, and it had been her mistake to attempt to keep up.

"I think I'll head to bed," she said, attempting to get to her feet, stumbling a little and having to catch herself on the edge of the table.

"I think I better come with you," Anakin said, placing a stabilizing hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, really," she protested, swaying slightly.

Her husband raised both eyebrows, and she grumbled quietly as he swung a supportive arm around her. Out in the hall, away from Obi-wan's watchful eye, she leaned her head against him.

"We should do this more often," she murmured, "go out, I mean. Go dancing, or something. Not in Galactic City, somewhere no one will know our faces, on the other side of the planet."

"I'd like that," he said, as they entered the elevator.

Once the doors closed firmly behind them, he pressed his lips to her, slamming her against the wall. Padme gasped, pulling him closer without thinking. Anakin was filled with alcohol and adrenaline left over from his fight. He kissed her hard and she clutched at the front of his robe, wanting more than anything not to have to pull away. But in this relationship one of them had to not be an idiot.

"Anakin!" she pulled away, breathless.

He'd moved to her neck, biting softly between kisses.

Suppressing a groan, Padme forced herself to speak. "Stop. Not here, not now." Hand on his chest, she moved him away from her gently.

"But I need you."

"And I you. That's why it's cruel that you force me to be the one to do this. It is you with everything to lose if we are discovered."

The elevator door slid open.

"You're too good for me," he said, "too understanding of this mess I've made of your life."

"You're the most exciting thing about my life," Padme admitted, "and I've been pursuing adventure for all of it."

Back in the bunk room, Padme produced a canteen of water from her pack. She chugged it before forcing it into Anakin's hands.

"Drink. I don't know if the galaxy could survive you with a hangover."

She passed out almost instantly, leaving Anakin turning restlessly in the bunk above her. He felt drunker now than he had downstairs, but could not quite collect the will to get up. He tried to focus on the force, but got bored. He watched her sleep for a while, her rhythmic breathing helping to calm him down. He wished he was sleeping beside her.

Eventually he managed to fall into a light sleep: one plagued with blurred snippets which could be called neither dreams nor nightmares. The day he'd met Ahsoka, her wide blue eyes staring up at him expectantly. The twisting alleys of what he now knew was Korono. Sparring with Obi-wan, advancing until he had his master pinned back against the wall. Kissing Padme, the desire he'd had to repress that evening manifesting in his dreams. Spearing Ztherr through the head, and feeling a deep, perverse pleasure. Ahsoka screaming. Screaming. Why was she screaming? Then the air was excruciatingly hot, stinking of sulfur, and he felt anger like nothing he'd felt before. He was drowning in it.

Anakin jerked awake, almost hitting his head on Obi-wan's bunk above him. He knew he had not been asleep long. For one, he was still clearly drunk. Sliding softly to the floor, as not to wake Padme, he had to take a few seconds to fully regain his balance. For a few seconds it had been sickening obvious that the ship was moving. Rex's form was visible above him in the fourth bunk. Obi-wan's still sat empty. So it appeared his master could not sleep either. Anakin set out to find him.

The level of their ship which housed their bunkroom was quiet and empty; most people asleep. The lower levels of the ship however, were just as busy as they had been earlier. Those from different parts of the planet and the first moon were on different sleep cycles.

He found Obi-wan on the lowest level. Starting at the canteen, Anakin had gone where the force took him until he'd ended up in an empty cargo hold. The main cargo of the ship was passengers but they had a few small rooms filled with mismatched crates containing force knew what.

Obi-wan sat on one of these crates, staring out a large window. His master had certainly found the best view. They were in a high orbit, as they headed for Cafra, Lyran stretching out far below them—a stunning collage of browns and deep greens. Lyran's star was visible, only about the size of Obi-wan's ear from this distance. It glowed hot blue, though it did little to stave off the blackness of space now that they were outside the atmosphere.

"What are you thinking about?" Anakin asked, as he approached.

Obi-wan shook his head. "Nothing."

"Don't lie, Master. You're drunk. The only reason you're not passed out right now is because your mind is racing."

Anakin took a seat beside Obi-wan, letting the silence stretch on as he took in the dance of the cosmic bodies.

"It was a rather pleasant evening. I didn't want it to end."

He studied Obi-wan's face, waiting for him to continue. He could sense that there was more to say, and say it Obi-wan did.

"I didn't want to think about the repercussions of what we've done, though it appear that's exactly what I have come here to do. Not facing my own mistakes, foregoing my responsibilities in lieu of a person crusade… At times like these I'm supposed to offer you wisdom, but all I can say tonight is do not act as I have."

"Too late," Anakin cracked a smile, "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"It's not the same. You're not the only Jedi Knight to disobey the council from time to time. There are some who barely come back to the temple, who do not command the clone army. A Jedi is still a Jedi as long as their decisions are made from a place of peace, not emotion. Do not take that to mean I agree with such choices, but I respect the place from which they are made. As a member of the council my responsibilities are different."

"You regret coming, then?" Anakin asked.

"No. If I woke tomorrow to find this had been a vision I would make the same plea before the council as I did before."

"You're worried what will happen when we get back," Anakin realized, "what will happen while we're gone."

He was unused to seeing Obi-wan so unsure, and begged his jumbled mind to produce some form of comfort, or Jedi wisdom.

Thankfully, it appeared his master did not need his help. "A Jedi does not worry. We must trust in the force and focus on the path which has been laid before us. We must release things we cannot control."

Anakin stayed silent, knowing that Obi-wan needed to talk through it.

"Blast this drink," Obi-wan exclaimed. "I've realized this already tonight, several times. I keep thinking in circles."

"You've been awake too long, trapping yourself in your head," Anakin offered. "You need to quiet your mind, and if meditation isn't working sleep's the next best thing. Maybe another drink will help."

"Not the healthiest method of dealing with one's problems."

"That's not a no."

Ten minutes later they were sitting on the ground, back against the crate. Anakin had brought back a bottle of dreg. Lyran's blue star was high above them now, almost disappearing from the top of the window.

Obi-wan made a toast before he took his first sip. "To leaving this odd and endless night behind us."

They passed the bottle back and forth as they talked. Their relationship was different now than it had been when Anakin was a child. Anakin was no longer just a student to Obi-wan, or even a younger brother. He was his best friend. Sure they didn't always show it when they were sober, but they greatly enjoyed each other's company.

Obi-wan was complimenting Anakin on how he was with Ahsoka. Anakin was too shocked to interrupt him or brush aside the praise. Was this really how his master felt?

"To see how much she's grown," he stared wistfully out the window, off into space, "it's like watching you grow up all over again. You were good for each other…" he paused "and I know I've said it before, but what happened wasn't your fault."

Anakin didn't know what he was feeling. He felt warm from the liquor, and a little tired. Everything was catching up to him all at once. The last two days had been such a blur, and the dream… something about the dream.

"You know that, right Anakin?" Obi-wan asked, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"We should do this more often," Anakin said, changing the subject completely, "hang out, I mean. It seems we only see each other in battle, or when we're training for it."

Obi-wan was taken aback. Anakin wasn't acting like himself. Unsure how to react, he laughed softly.

"It's war time, I'm not sure there is much more to our lives anymore," he said, "but yes, I think I'd enjoy that."

Anakin took another deep swig from the bottle. Obi-wan had been so absorbed in himself he hadn't noticed until now, but there was something off about his former Padawan, just a slight quiver in the force. Anakin had been drinking much more heavily than he, and the bottle was almost empty though he'd had very little.

"Is there something bothering you?" he asked, "aside from the obvious, I mean."

"I thought we'd passed the therapy part of the night."

"I told you what was keeping me awake. Now it's your turn."

There was a long, drawn out pause. "I wasn't asleep long, but I had a dream. Not a vision, I don't think."

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, and Anakin knew he could not get out of sharing. And maybe he wanted to. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt that tonight it would be a shoulder to lean on instead of a lecture he would get from his master.

"It was just drunken flashes," he said, "things that are weighing on my mind; nothing to worry about. I dreamed of Korono, and Ahsoka screaming. There was some random moments too: us sparring I think, and Padme…" he cut himself off. "But just was I was waking up, just for a few moments, I felt something."

There was a shift in the force as Anakin remembered, and it unnerved Obi-wan slightly.

"I don't want to say it was a vision. I didn't really see anything at all. It was clouded."

Obi-wan scratched his beard in concern. "Visions of the future can be clouded by the dark side. What did you feel?"

"It really was just a few seconds," Anakin insisted, almost fearful, "I don't know why I remember it at all." He massaged his temples, eyes scrunched closed. It looked as if he was in pain. "It was uncomfortably hot, and it smelled like sulfur and ash. I was so angry…"

He looked up and Obi-wan was trapped in his gaze. Why was he looking at him like that? For a moment it did not look like Anakin, as his hair fell forward into his eyes. Obi-wan could not continue this conversation. It was time to change the subject back to something else. What Anakin needed right now was to be distracted.

"So," he asked, "when you say we're going to start 'hanging out' I get the ominous feeling that means you plan on dragging me to some unpleasant corner of Coruscant's underbelly."

Just like that the moment had passed, and Anakin was smiling again, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. They talked of lighter things until both finally slipped into dreamless sleeps, passed out on the floor in a manner which was not at all elegant.

Obi-wan woke with a headache. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the cargo hold. Anakin's head rested on his stomach, lying perpendicular to him on his side. The young man breathed slowly, looking so at peace Obi-wan at first did not wish to wake him. What a mess the pair of them were. Regret washed over the Jedi master like a wave. He was not drinking again for a long time. He did not trust the judgment of the person he became.

Out of the window he could see Cafra looming, about the size of his head. They would be in orbit soon enough.

Suddenly the force flared, sending chills up his spine. Sitting up straight, he woke Anakin who grunted, clutching his head.

"Good—"

Obi-wan pushed a finger to his lips, conveying a warning through his eyes. It was clear that Anakin felt it too for he was suddenly on edge as well; listening. From their current position they could just barely hear a conversation coming through the wall from the next cargo hold. Whether they recognized the voices, or simply the way they felt, both Jedi automatically knew who it was.

Silently they crept to a grate in the wall, trying to catch some of the words.

"Help…" Making out a full sentence was near hopeless. "Kriff, Ztherr…"

"…so…?"

Above them another grate led up into the ventilation. Anakin moved it with the force, launching himself up into the crawl space. Not again, Obi-wan thought bitterly, before following.

As they crawled the voices became more distinct.

"A good hall, if I do say so myself." It was Rel's voice. "We'll be coming up on Cafra soon. Do you think we have the time to grab a few more?"

"If you hustle," Ztherr hissed, "get going before I decide to throw you in with the others."

Obi-wan and Anakin passed over a grate, seeing a cargo hold much like the one they'd slept in. Rel and Ztherr were standing beside a rather large crate. It opened on the side instead of the top, but they could not see inside from their angle.

"What's your issue?" Rel asked. "They job's gone perfect. We're going to be rich."

"You never should have picked a fight with that clone and his crazy friend. Nothing good is going to come of that, mark my words."

On the other side of the crate Obi-wan and Anakin found another hole through which to peer, and they finally saw what it was that Rel and Ztherr were stealing. Obi-wan felt Anakin's anger, red hot and choking. He grabbed a hold of his ankle, afraid that Anakin would go so far as to drop down through the grate and confront them.

The crate the pair of smugglers guarded was full of people. They were unconscious, obviously drugged, and stacked like cargo. It appeared that Rel and Ztherr were in the business of slavery. These were the people no one would miss, literally lost in translation. This was the perfect hunting ground for predators like these.

Twisting uncomfortably in the vent, Anakin met Obi-wan's eyes. It was time to get involved.


	5. Do I Look Like a Jedi?

The raspy voice of the trandoshan reached up into the ventilation as the two Jedi crawled back to where they'd entered.

"We don't really have the time to get any more," Ztherr said. "Help me close it up and get them down to the landing bay."

Anakin and Obi-wan were running out of time if they wanted to save these people from a life of slavery.

"I'll see if I can talk to them," Obi-wan said. "You go back into the vents. Drop down behind. If things go wrong protect the people."

There was no need for any other words. This is what they did. Last night may have be strange, but today was just another day.

Out in the hall, Obi-wan waited before the blast doors he knew lead into the second cargo hold. He stood with a wide stance, hands clasped behind his back. They slid open to reveal only Ztherr

"What?" the trandoshan hissed.

"I'm going to have to kindly ask you to release the people you are in the process of kidnapping."

Surprise flickered across Ztherr's reptilian features, but he recovered quickly, drawing his blaster.

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Obi-wan said, infusing a little force persuasion into his words.

He placed his hand atop the blaster, pushing it down gently so it faced towards the floor.

"Your job's gone wrong," Obi-wan continued. "Release them and disappear on Cafra or I'll let the ship's crew know what's going on."

"What will they do?" Ztherr hissed. "Arrest us? Under what authority? There's no law here."

"That may be true, but you will be vastly outnumbered." With a movement so quick Ztherr barely registered, Obi-wan pulled his blaster from his grip. "And you're unarmed."

Suddenly Ztherr was afraid. He looked behind him for Rel but the man was nowhere to be found. The crate floated ominously on the anti-grav with no one to push it. Anakin crouched behind a nearby stack of cargo, Rel caught in a chokehold. He'd all but stopped struggle by this point, and was slipping slowly into unconsciousness.

"I have no authority to arrest you," said Obi-wan. "No harm will come to you, or your friend. Just leave."

Anakin scowled on hearing this. If allowed to go free these men would just do this again somewhere else, but he knew he couldn't argue with his master.

"I can tell you're a reasonable man," said Ztherr. "I was afraid for a moment you would be like your brother. I say you have yourself a deal. Rel and I leave quietly and the refugees continue safely on to Korono."

Relief washed over Obi-wan. He couldn't have let this situation play out, but he'd feared that their action would result in their discovery.

Ztherr extended a black-gloved hand: a shake to seal their agreement. Anakin, who was watching, could not warn his master in time. On accepting the handshake Ztherr's clawed fingers had clamped down around Obi-wan's hand like a vise. A potentially deadly dose of electricity coursed through the Jedi's body. Anakin was seconds from hurling Ztherr through the air, the force humming around him, threatening to rush forth without his explicate consent.

He could not act so rashly. He needed to think, to regroup. What would Obi-wan do? Anakin focused on his breathing, on the infinite calm of the force. He let the anger flow out into it. Leaving his master's body crumpled on the floor outside he used the force to close the cargo bay door, activating the locking mechanism.

It was clear now: Ztherr and Rel needed to be dealt with. His lightsaber was practically burning a hole in his shirt. There was one sure way to make sure they wouldn't reveal their identities. He could hide the bodies in the crate. They wouldn't be discovered until long after they were safely on Korono. It wasn't cruelty, it was practicality. But looking down at Rel's body on the floor he knew he wouldn't be able to look Obi-wan in the eyes after executing an unconscious man. Ztherr however was another story. But to kill one and not the other… that risked their discovery.

So non-deadly force it was. He could hear Ztherr trying to get in, swearing in a language Anakin did not recognize. Most important thing right now was getting the refugees to safety, he knew that. With the help of the force he pulled the crate to the far corner of the room, near the grate that lead to the next cargo hold. If he could get them through before Ztherr got into the room he would have one less thing to worry about.

Ripping the grate off of the wall, he opened the crate. There they were: the twelve people who would have lived the rest of their lives in slavery, had him and Obi-wan not chosen that exact room to drink in. Whatever Ztherr had given them must have been strong, because none stirred at all. They could have been corpses. The first man he lifted was about Obi-wan's age with sandy blond hair. Anakin force pushed him down the half meter long vent which lead to the next room. He reached for the next woman, but as her head fell to face him he froze. Something was caught in his throat, maybe a sob, maybe a scream.

It was his mother. She was younger than when he'd last seen her, like she'd been in his earliest childhood memories. Deep down he knew this young woman could not be his mother, but the resemblance was disorienting. For a second he entertained the possibility he held an unknown cousin in his arms.

Ztherr and Rel had taken her against her will: this poor woman fleeing a war zone all alone. He could see her ending up somewhere just like Tatooine, broken down over years of servitude until any dreams she'd had were just dust underfoot.

"I'm sorry I left you," he wanted to say, but didn't because he knew neither this woman nor his mother would hear him.

There was a bang and a shower of sparks at the door. Cursing his moment of distraction, Anakin pushed the woman through the vent and turned to face Ztherr. He'd blasted the locking mechanism, causing it to fail.

"You!" the trandoshan hissed.

Anakin dodged the blaster fire just in time, leaping behind a row of shelves holding smaller boxes.

"There's no one to intervene and save you, this time. You're dead meat."

Anakin bit back his response, as it would give his position away among the twisting rows of cargo. Hood up, Anakin watched the trandoshan from the shadow cast by a stack of crates, as he looked for him in the wrong direction.

With the force, Anakin toppled a shelf onto Ztherr before running towards him. If he could just get a hold of that blaster. Sadly, nothing heavy seemed to have fallen on Ztherr, and he threw a box at Anakin before firing. Anakin slid across the ground, then flipped to the side, grabbing hold of the top of a crate and launching himself over Ztherr. Every blast hit empty air, Anakin one step ahead. The force hummed around him, infused into every move he made.

Jumping onto Ztherr's back from behind, Anakin attempted to pull the blaster from his grip. Ztherr fell backwards purposefully, crushing Anakin against the ground. They grappled for a moment, the trandoshan's crushing weight keeping Anakin from taking a full breath. With the help of the force he flipped them so it was he pinning Ztherr against the floor. Then he was flying backwards, a screaming pain in his upper arm. Ztherr had managed to shoot him. It was only a graze through his bicep, but the pain still blurred his vision.

Anakin rolled to cover behind some crates. He squeezed his wound and blood bubbled up through his fingers. It was nothing. He'd fought through much worse. Breathing in then out, Anakin focused on finding his center in the force. That was not all he found. He found distain for the honourless Ztherr who had used Obi-wan's trust against him. His master had not understood that there was more honour on the battlefield than there was in the world of criminals. This creature was of the same kind that had enslaved his mother, who had taken Ahsoka.

Where was he? Why had he not attempted to pursue him in among the cargo?

The answer came quickly in the form of Ztherr's voice ringing out from across the hold. "I hate to minimize profit, but every time I see your face from now on I shoot one of the slaves in the head. I know you fancy yourself a hero, but isn't the life of a slave better than none at all?"

No, Anakin thought, it wasn't. This had gone on long enough.

He stepped from the cargo, injured arm held tight to his side. His hood almost completely obscured his face. He moved so silently that at first Ztherr didn't notice him. When he did the trandoshan didn't have time to react. Anakin's uninjured hand had shot up and suddenly Ztherr was a meter off the ground, gasping for air. His blaster flew from his hand and into Anakin's.

"You're…" Ztherr gasped, eyes bulging, "a Jedi!"

Would he have to kill Ztherr to keep their secret? He couldn't. Obi-wan would see right through him, and he didn't not wish to succumb completely to the anger which had exploded inside of him. Not that he couldn't use it. The trick was to act the part, without becoming it.

Anakin spun, slamming Ztherr against the wall. Shifting the pressure he applied to Ztherr's chest, he advanced slowly. The trandoshan sucked in air desperately, having been seconds from passing out before Anakin had released his windpipe. As he walked towards him Anakin let him see it: the nightmare version of himself he did not let out unless the situation was dire enough.

Voice low, teeth gritted, Anakin asked, "do I look like a Jedi?"

He could sense Ztherr's fear, and he relished it. This creature deserved much more than what he was going to get. Pushing harder, Anakin heard Ztherr's ribs crack. He let out a strangled scream which Anakin cut short by holding his jaw shut. The door to the cargo hold was closed, but he couldn't risk drawing any attention.

"Scum!" Anakin spat, letting Ztherr drop to a crumpled heap on the floor. "Do you understand how badly I want to kill you?"

Ztherr attempted neither to get up, nor to answer him. He simply stared fearfully up at him with his disgusting reptilian eyes.

"However it seems to be your lucky day. Bodies will draw attention, and even if I hide them well enough Obi-wan will be upset with me."

Anakin kicked him in his injured ribs, and watched with something close to glee as the trandoshan curled in on himself, whimpering.

"You're not going to say a word about this," Anakin said, "not to my brother, not to Rel. Trust me, if you do, I'll know." He tapped his forehead. "If my sense of time is right, we're already in orbit around Cafra. Take your friend and disappear. I'd hurry too, because if you miss this generous opportunity you're both dead. If I sense you mentioned me to anyone, you're dead. Right now it's very important I get to Korono, but be confident in the fact that I will find you, no matter where you try to hide. I'm not a forgiving person."

Ztherr was nodding feverishly. "Yes-Yes of course!"

"Get up!" Anakin bellowed. "Before I change my mind."

Though he was obviously in pain, Ztherr managed to carry an unconscious Rel out of the hold. Anakin made sure to remember how he felt in the force. He'd be able to tell when he left the ship. He'd been so caught up in the moment he'd forgotten about his arm, but that didn't last as it began to smart again. As he went to where Obi-wan had fallen he focused on finding his force center again, both to ease the pain and to dissipate the darkness which had exploded in him during the confrontation.

Obi-wan lay exactly where Ztherr had left him.

"Oh, master," Anakin murmured, crouching down and turning Obi-wan's face so it was no longer squished uncomfortably against the floor.

He could sense that he was going to be alright, and it felt like a massive weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. If Ztherr had—force forbid—killed Obi-wan with the electric shock Anakin knew he wouldn't have let them leave the ship.

The ship's singular, old med droid had been not expecting such a sudden influx of patients. Anakin delivered both Obi-wan and the crate full of unconscious refugees, ignoring the stares of those in the hall. The med bay was tragically understocked but no one needed much more than a place to sleep it off.

When Obi-wan awoke Anakin was sitting one bed over getting bacta applied to his shoulder wound while being interrogated by the ship's captain.

"I figured it was better to make sure the people were okay than to follow them," Anakin was explaining. "Did they get off the ship?"

"Yes, sadly," the captain said.

Obi-wan struggled to sit up, and Anakin turned to face him.

"Welcome back." He grinned cheekily.

Obi-wan had so many questions, but he could not ask them in front of the captain.

"The captain has generously decided to make an exception to his no fighting rule on our behalf," said Anakin.

"Thank you both," the man said, "a lot of people would have just turned a blind eye. That's how scum like them are so successful. I've been flying this shuttle for a long time, and I am sad to say this isn't the first time I've seen this happen."

After they'd escaped the med bay, Obi-wan's first question was, "should I be worried?"

Anakin wasn't meeting his eyes, but his response sounded genuine enough. "No. They're both alive, if that's what you were wondering, and I very much doubt they'll mention us to anyone."

"And why would you say that?" Obi-wan pushed.

"Ztherr and I had a chat. Turns out he was an understanding fellow after all. I don't think he wanted to get on my bad side."

"No…" Obi-wan said thoughtfully. "I don't think any of us do."

He probed Anakin's mind gently through the force, but his former Padawan gave him nothing. It appeared he would be getting no more information either verbally or psychically. He trusted Anakin, and his force presence wasn't abnormal for him, but there was something about his demeanor that was worrisome.

When they filled Padme and Rex in over breakfast they were incredulous.

"I leave you two alone for one night," Padme said.

"Trouble does seem to find us," Obi-wan admitted, taking a sip of his caf.

"I'm honestly not that surprised," said Rex, as he and Padme exchanged a knowing look.

While the "Duura family" was shooting through hyperspace and nursing hangovers, somewhere else in the galaxy Ahsoka was awakening for the first time since her abduction. Everything was fuzzy: her body, her head, even the force. She felt sick from dehydration, and at the moment opening her eyes seemed like it would take too much energy. Instinctively, the first thing she did was reach out for Anakin's presence in the force.

It wasn't there. Of course it wasn't there, she chided herself. She'd left him after all. Ever since she'd turned her back to the temple and not looked back she'd been burdened by the guilt of this. Even when the order had turned against her Anakin had never given up. But she couldn't have stayed, not even for him, not after the masters who had raised her and looked her in the eyes and called her a traitor and a murderer.

No use dwelling on it more than she already had. It was time to get up. Ahsoka peeled her eyes open with some effort and attempted to sit up. That was when she realized she couldn't move. She was on an inclined table, her wrists and ankles secured to it with energy bindings. Everything came rushing back all at once: Korono, the zygerrians. She'd let herself be captured. And it was with a sinking feeling that she realized that no one would be coming for her.

She was going to have to save herself. These zygerrians had made a mistake. It was almost impossible to hold a Jedi. But she wasn't a Jedi anymore, she reminded herself. All the same, she could still use the force and she drew it around her like a child comforting themselves with an old blanket. She was in a ship's prison cell the likes of which she'd seen the inside of before. There were no switches of controls of any kind she could use to release herself, so it appeared that for the moment she was stuck. Whoever came through that door next was getting an unpleasant surprise.

As she waited, Ahsoka entered a strange sort of meditation, so focused was she on the door before her. The force was ready, and so was she. When the door did slide open she almost didn't realize in time that it was not the zygerrians who stood before her. It was a twi'lek girl, probably about her age. She carried a nutrition bar and glass of water. Her posture and downcast eyes gave her away as a slave, and Ahsoka's plan changed. If she could convince this girl to free her she knew she would be able to overpower the slavers. There was no try, only do or do not, and in this case do not was not an option she wished to think about.

"Hey…" Ahsoka coaxed, in a voice she had meant to be soothing but which had come out more as a croak.

She'd just met the twi'lek's fearful eyes when it was back to plan A. One of the zygerrians had entered the room behind her. All Ahsoka was able to move was her fingers, but as she curled them towards her it happened just as she had imagined it a thousand times, staring at the door. The zygerrian was yanked forward violently, forehead colliding hard with the edge of her table. He was unconscious, but Ahsoka knew she didn't have long.

"Quickly!" she yelled at the frightened slave. "Free me!"

The twi'lek looked behind her at the open door, making no move to do anything of the sort.

"Please…" Ahsoka was practically begging at this point. "Once I'm free I can take them. You have to trust me. I'll get us both out of here."

The twi'lek was obviously terrified, and Ahsoka knew screaming at her wasn't helping, but she was desperate. Much to her relief, the twi'lek began to move towards the fallen zygerrian. Ahsoka reached out desperately with the force, searching for something on his person, anything she could use, but her emotion had broken her focus and everything was happening too quickly.

The girl had reached into one of the slaver's pockets, but she hadn't been fast enough. The other zygerrian was at the door, electrowip in his hand. He struck the twi'lek hard across the back and her small body collapsed, convulsing.

"Stop!" Ahsoke screamed, straining forward against her bonds.

She slammed outwards with the force and the zygerrian slid a few feet back, but managed to brace himself. He hit a button on his armband and Ahsoka felt electricity run through her entire body. The pain was excruciating and she couldn't help the scream that escaped her lips. When it stopped he struck out with the whip, but instead of aiming for her he had gone for the twi'lek again.

"Why are you hurting her?" Ahsoka asked, fighting the tears that were building up in her eyes. "She didn't do anything."

"Maybe so," snarled the monster before her, "but she has a much lower tolerance for pain than you, and I know a Jedi can't bear to see someone suffer in their place."

"I'm not a Jedi," Ahsoka countered, trying to harness some of the intensity she sometimes saw in her master's eyes, "not anymore."

It did not have the same effect coming from her mouth. She sounded more like a scared child.

"So this doesn't bother you?" he asked, slamming his boot against the girls back as she attempted to get to her feet.

Ahsoka knew she was trapped. Letting her muscles go slack she slumped back against the inclined table.

"Please don't hurt her." All pretense of bravery was gone from her voice.

A toothy, catlike smile spread across the zygerrian's face. "That's what I thought."


	6. Starless

Korono was a place humming with outer rim culture. Though the landscape was nothing more interesting than endless planes of mud and brown grass the cities were splashes of beauty: filled with coloured cloth and captivating beaded ornaments. Anakin found the architecture a little too similar to Tatooine for his taste, though the buildings were taller and made of a darker sort of mud.

The refugees were to be integrated in a spread out fashion, small groups being sent to every corner of the globe. Where to start looking for Ahsoka would have seemed a hopeless question to ask, had the planet not only hosted two spaceports. One of these was much larger than the other, being located in Korono's capital city. This was where the refugee ship had dropped them off, and in the force Anakin felt that he would not have to look far to find the location of his vision.

They gave the authorities the slip soon after touching down, not wanting to end up on one of the land transports which would have taken them to the middle of nowhere. Anakin and Obi-wan disagreed on their first course of action. Anakin wanted to find the exact location of his vision, and Obi-wan thought it would be wiser to search the space port for any information on the zygerrians. It was only after a calm suggestion from Padme that they realized they could do both at once. She offered to stay with Obi-wan, and Rex accompanied Anakin out into the city. They left Artoo with Obi-wan and Padme as well. He'd been powered down for the duration of their flight there, and was still rebooting some of his systems.

There were a few main streets wide enough for vehicles, but the majority of the city was snaking alleys which seemed to have been built with no pattern in mind. The ground and buildings were the same hard packed dirt, and as the wind whistled through the streets some of it blew up into Rex and Anakin's faces.

"I really wish I had my helmet right now," said Rex, tilting his hat as far down as he could, over his eyes.

"You think this is bad you should try living on a planet covered in sand," said Anakin. "Nowhere is safe from it."

Despite his initial impression, as they walked aimlessly through the city, Anakin came to the realization that Korono was a happier place than Tatooine. It felt lighter in the force, and there was a source of live music on almost every block. Every once in a while a group of alleys would meet in a small communal plaza with a fountain in the center. People filled water jugs, and children played. There were too many smells to identify: food coming from the various eating establishments, and the different incenses the people of the planet seemed to favour so heavily.

The third plaza of this kind that they came across was slightly larger than those before it. Anakin had decided that the best way to find where Ahsoka would have gone was to think like her. A large entranceway lead into a restaurant which seemed to serve only one dish: some sort of fried meet. In the corner, one man played a melody on some sort of stringed instrument which he plucked in his lap.

Rex was hungry so they decided to eat as well, but Anakin had come here to ask a question. They waited at the counter for the alien to bring them their bowls of food.

"Excuse me," Anakin said, as she set them down in front of them, "but is there anything like a hostel nearby? Somewhere we could stay for a couple of nights?"

"It's a bit of a walk," she said, "but T'sto will put you up real cheap."

She gave them direction which followed the main roads, knowing that offworlders would get lost in the twisting streets of the neighbourhoods. They ate quickly before departing. Though Rex tried to carry a conversation, Anakin barely spoke. His demeanor was different than it had been on the refugee ship: intense and focused only on the task at hand.

After Anakin and Rex had departed from the space port, the first thing Padme and Obi-wan had done was find an eating establishment themselves. Though the one Obi-wan lead them towards was seedier in nature. It was part saloon part diner, a hangout for the pilots who did not know the planet and did not wish to venture out into the city. It was also sure to be a den of criminal activity; the perfect place to gather information.

A wind whipped through the spaceport, pulling dust off of the hard packed ground and into Padme's face. She wore a loose shall over her hair, and pulled up part of it to cover her mouth and nose, while carefully stepping over the large pile of animal dung which lay before her. Artoo whistled loudly, swerving abruptly and almost knocking her over.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" she asked, peering at Obi-wan out of the corner of her eye.

He understood, despite her lack of elaboration. "This place reminds you of Tatooine?"

"In a strange way. Maybe it's being here with you and Anakin, maybe it's this dirt blowing in my eyes, but every time I turn to look at you I'm half expecting to see you clean shaven with a Padawan braid."

"Nothing ever changes, and yet everything does." They'd stopped in the shadow of the saloon, the building sheltering them from the wind. "These planets are no different than they were all those years ago, but I am no longer a Padawan, and you are no longer a queen."

"And the galaxy is no longer at peace," Padme muttered, as if talking to herself.

"True. But does this dirt know any different? Does this wind? Empires rise and fall but the galaxy continues to exist, as does the force. When it all gets to be too much, I remember that."

She smiled at him, hoping he knew how much his words really meant. Ever since she'd know him Obi-wan had always been a calming presence, and as a Jedi master she respected him immensely.

They were forced to leave Artoo outside when they entered the bar. Sitting down they ordered only food. The night before last they'd drank enough to last them for quite some time. They needed to be alert and listening. Small metal dishes hung near the ceiling, incense smoldering in every one. A thin cloud of smoke hung above everyone's heads. Near the back of the room a group of weequay threw knives at a target.

"You're right, you know," Obi-wan said, looking almost as if he was suppressing a laugh. "Now that you've said it I can't shake the déjà vu. Maybe we should ask around about local pod racing, see if Anakin's still any good."

He'd clearly been joking, but a strange look had fallen across Padme's face.

"What is it?"

"Oh," she shook herself, "it's nothing. Just… he was so young. He was so tiny when I met him. It's just… it's just weird…"

Obi-wan was watching her as she trailed off, an eyebrow raised. When she did not say anything more he turned his attention to the weequay across the saloon.

Eating the last spoonful of the strange porridge they'd ordered, he said, "I think I'll go make some new friends."

As he swaggered towards the pirates, Padme couldn't help but sigh. This was bound to be trouble. Jedi were all the same. He had his methods, and she had hers. She ate slowly, scanning the saloon. She might not have had the force, but if there was one thing Padme was good at it was reading people. Most of these people were just passing through. If she wanted to find information she had to talk to a local.

Her eyes settled on an aged man on the other side of the circular counter. His cloak was covered in the dust of this place, and he greeted the bartender like he knew him. Padme caught his eye, and gave him a warm smile. He nodded at her respectfully before turning to his drink, and the pastry he'd bought. Lies could only get one so far. Sometimes it payed to be straightforward.

Walking over to him, Padme said, "I'm very sorry to bother you, but I'll buy you a round if you'll sit and listen to me for a few moments."

The man looked her up and down suspiciously, but there was a kind crinkle beside his eyes. "Alright, sit down. I'm not one to refuse a beautiful lady such as yourself."

She settled onto the stool beside him.

"So, what business could you possibly have with someone like me?" he asked, taking a long sip of the warm alcoholic beverage in front of him.

"Well, I take it you're from around here, and I'm actually on Korono looking for someone: a friend of mine."

On the other side of the bar, Obi-wan was showing off.

"You cheated," snarled one of the weequay. One of his arms was badly bandaged and held across his chest in a sling.

"How so?" Obi-wan asked, twirling one of the throwing knives in his hand. "How about this? Double or nothing. I'll even play with my eyes closed. Any of you up to the challenge?"

There was a chorus of laughter and trash talk from the pirates, indicating that they would take his bet. He really had no intention of taking their money. Once he won, he'd allow them to settle their debt by buying him a friendly round of drinks.

Padme watched them with amusement as the man, whose name she'd learned was Zero, thought.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've heard anything about a togruta girl. I definitely haven't seen one. It's a big port. A lot of people pass through."

Padme bit her lip. There was another detail she could give the man, but it risked giving Zero more information about them than she was completely comfortable with. However they were in Separatist space already, and people said all sorts of things around bars like these.

Lowering her voice, Padme said, "she used to be a Jedi Padawan. She was exiled from order only a few months ago."

Zero's sharp intake of breath gave him away. His eyes had gone to her waist and she knew what he was looking for. She shook her head slowly.

"I'm not."

With impeccable timing, Obi-wan chose that moment to sink a knife into the center of a target from across the saloon, with his eyes closed. Padme winced, then looked up to meet Zero's fearful gaze.

"Please… if you know anything. She's just a child, out there alone in the galaxy."

There was a long pause before Zero spoke. "There has been talk of the Jedi girl. A couple of this place's less savoury customers allegedly sustained injuries from her, and they were loud about it. Once word got out it traveled fast. Drunks like to talk."

Zero wasn't looking at her. Instead he was staring across the bar at Obi-wan and the weequay. One of them had an arm in a sling. Another's spiny head was bandaged.

"You don't mean…?" Padme gasped.

On the other side of the bar, Obi-wan absorbed the weequay's death threats like well earned praise. It meant they liked him, he was making progress. The one with the bandaged head had just agreed to buy him a drink, when he felt Padme looking at him. She was sitting beside an older gentlemen, and when he met her eyes she beckoned for him to come closer.

"Just one moment, gentlemen," Obi-wan said. "I'll be right back with you. And there better be a drink waiting here for me."

As the Jedi master walked towards them, Zero stiffened fearfully. He did not wish to be sucked into what was clearly about to happen. Padme touched him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"What is it?" Obi-wan asked, in a quiet voice.

"I think you should ask your new friends how they got their injuries. I hear that they've seen Ahsoka, and that the run-in was less than cordial."

When Obi-wan walked back over to the pirates, his expression no longer friendly.

"Show me your arm."

He grabbed hold of the pirate's shoulder firmly, ripping through the thin sling.

"What the crick? Why?"

"Show me your arm," Obi-wan repeated, this time with a slight movement of his hand, and prod with the force. "I want to see how you got it."

The pirate nodded vacantly, and allowed Obi-wan to unwrap some of the bandages.

The cut went all the way through the muscle, almost to the bone. The cauterization of the wound made it clear it had been caused by a lightsaber.

"You're going to tell me exactly how this happened," said Obi-wan, threatening but calm. "Don't spare any detail."

"He's not telling you anything," hissed another one of the pirates, "and don't you even try to mess with my mind. I saw what you did there, Jedi."

There was a blaster in his hand, pointed directly at Obi-wan's chest. He began to back away, gesturing for the other weequay to follow him. As he rounded the bar, Padme stuck out her leg. He'd been so focused on Obi-wan the pirate hadn't noticed, and he pitched backwards, crashing to the floor. Obi-wan pulled the blaster from his hand with the force, sending it skidding across the ground like it had happened naturally.

But there were five pirates, all of them armed. Two pulled their friend roughly from the ground, and one fired a single shot in Obi-wan's direction. He dodged easily, but they were already at the door. Grabbing the blaster off the ground, he pursued them. There was a hovercar and two speeders waiting outside. In a full out sprint, Obi-wan aimed for the fuel tank on the car. The force guided his hand, and his aim was true.

There was a small explosion, and the pirates were knocked backwards.

"I just want to talk to you!" Obi-wan yelled in frustration, as they fired back at him. "Stop this."

He was forced to dive behind a delivery cart for cover.

They piled onto the speeders, two on one and three on the next. Those who weren't driving faced backwards, guns in hand. The one with the injured arm sat squished in the middle of the three person speeder.

"Oh no you don't," Obi-wan muttered.

The spaceport was a busy place, and the pirates were forced to dodge through a maze of vehicles and animals unloading cargo. Obi-wan leapt on top of the delivery cart, then propelled himself up onto the slanting overhang of a nearby building. Now on the rooves, Obi-wan was able to cut them off, as they drove around the block of buildings.

He dropped down, balancing perfectly on the handlebars of the lead speeder. His robe blocked the pirates view completely, and they swerved back and forth as they fought for control of the steering. Before the pirate on the back of the bike could fire, Obi-wan used the force to pull the blaster from his hand. They were moving so fast he had no chance of retrieving it, and it fell to the ground far behind them.

"I know it was the zygerrians who took her." Even balanced on the front of a speeding bike Obi-wan was attempting to negotiate. "All I needed was information. Why make this so difficult?"

All the weequay did was snarl at him. The other speeder had pulled ahead of them. Obi-wan could feel the danger in the force, but he had to twist awkwardly to see the gun being aimed at him. Dodging the blasts unbalanced him, and he was forced to leap from the handlebars.

They had been traveling alongside a magtrain, which still moved very slowly in the bustle of the spaceport. Obi-wan grabbed hold of a ladder on its side, and launched himself onto the roof. The speeders were moving faster than the train, and he had to run to keep pace with them.

He'd managed to keep a hold of the blaster, and now he fired at the engines of the bikes. He hated the inelegant weapon, but right now it was practical. He was too focused on running and dodging to have any hope of concentrating long enough to use the force to stop the vehicles.

All this time, Padme had not been idle. She'd followed Obi-wan and the pirates from the bar, staying in the doorframe to avoid the blaster fire. When they took off on the speeders, Artoo beeped frantically at her.

"No," she said, "we're not going to follow them. I have a better idea. We're going to make sure they have nowhere to go."

It didn't take Padme long to find the office of the portmaster. It was a cubic concrete building, surrounded on all sides by docking bays housing more expensive looking freighters.

"Alright," Padme whispered, crouching down next to Artoo. "Here's the plan. I'm going to chat up whoever is at the desk, and you'll slip past and get inside. You've been on covert missions before, I know you can handle it. I saw a service door on the other side of the building, you can let me in there."

Artoo gave a short beep of acknowledgment.

The receptionist was a human male with a large red beard. He surveyed Padme suspiciously as she approached. Artoo hovered outside the door, watching.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

"Do you keep records of old ship dockings?" Padme asked.

"Depends on how old we're talking."

"Just a few months. I just came in on the refugee ship, but a friend of mine came a few months earlier. We can't find her, and I'm so worried."

The man rolled his eyes. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you just don't have the authority to see any of the records."

"Please," Padme pouted, even tearing up a little. She leaned on the desk, making sure to make eye contact. "She's only sixteen. She could have come in with smugglers, or traffickers, oh I'm so worried…"

Artoo fiddled with the data port near the door behind the desk. Much to Padme's relief, it slid open silently, and the astromech disappeared inside the building. She soon gave up her fake attempt to gain information, and left the office and the poor man alone.

She'd only waited outside the back door for a few minutes when it slid open. Artoo beeped proudly, and Padme couldn't help but smile. She'd always liked him, but since giving him to Anakin it was clear modifications had been made. Artoo was no ordinary droid.

It was only a two floor building, and they found the records room on the second level. As Padme climbed the stairs, Artoo hovering beside her, she heard footsteps coming down the hall below them. Padme quickened her pace. At the top of the stairs a main hallway lead down to a large door labelled with the words _Records and Servers_ in basic. To her right was a doorframe leading to a small hallway with what looked like office doors leading off of it. Padme slid through the door, pressing herself into the corner the frame made with the wall. Artoo did the same on the other side.

Much to her horror, the man did not continue down the main hallway. He walked through the door behind which they hid. If he had turned his head even a little he would have seen her. Keeping her breathing level, Padme slid back around the frame so that her back was pressed to it on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" she heard a man's voice, obviously addressed at Artoo. "Are you new?"

Artoo beeped in response.

"Don't speak binary, sorry. I'll have to ask Kegan later, I guess."

There was a hiss and then a click, indicating the man had entered one of the rooms, and Padme let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

There was only a single twi'lek woman in the records room. She looked to be half asleep, leaning heavily on her consul and talking into a communicator she wore on her head.

"Razer V you are clear for landing. Please proceed to bay 103."

A line of desks and computer servers separated her from Padme, and she could keep out of site by staying in a crouch. On one of the empty desks, there was a datapad plugged into the servers alongside it. Bringing it down to the floor with her, she activated it while hiding her body mostly under the desk.

"Plug in there," she whispered to Artoo, pointing to the data port on the nearest server bank.

"We need to find their ship. Bring up landings a little prior to four nights ago, mid-sized modified freighters."

The droid worked quickly, and soon data was flashing across her screen. There wouldn't be anything labeled weequay pirate ship, but still holos were taken of the ships landed. With a bit of effort she'd hopefully be able to identify them.

It didn't take too long. Artoo was good at his job. When she found them she had to stifle a gasp, not the twi'lek would have noticed, so absorbed was she in what she was doing.

"Starless," Padme mouthed to herself, as she looked over the file.

It was a unique looking ship, but more importantly it was in hanger 75-B. She had Artoo download all of the recent landing data on the datapad, and slid it into an inside pocket of her jacket. She'd have time to search for the zygerrians later. Getting to her feet, she exited the building in a brisk walk, not even bothering to sneak around. She would rely on the power of looking like she was supposed to be there. Hopefully Obi-wan had kept the pirates busy enough that they had not yet doubled back for their ship.

Outside she broke into a full-out run. The space port was large, and was beginning to worry this whole endeavour had taken so long it would be pointless. Padme passed a cargo-haller and skidded to a stop. It was little more than an antigrav platform with the handlebars of a speeder attached. Jumping on, she took off at the highest speed it could manage, with Artoo on the back. It wasn't much faster than a run, but every bit helped.

When they skidded to a stop in docking bay 75-B, the Starless was still there. It was painted grey and shaped like a boomerang: pointed at the cockpit with two long wings which curved back. The body was shorter than the wings, just a small cylinder coming out of the cockpit and resting on the ground.

As Artoo worked on unlocking the ramp, Padme drew her blaster. The ship looked empty, but one couldn't be too careful. Whatever security system—if any—the pirates had was no match for the little astromech.

"Get to the cockpit," Padme whispered. "I'm going to sweep the ship."

Much to her relief, it truly was deserted. The only danger to her was the stench. The living quarters were a mess. There was a communal space, two sleeping quarters each containing a bunkbed, and a third one containing a larger bed. It must have belonged to the captain.

Satisfied, she made sure the ramp was locked in place, and followed Artoo to the cockpit. She sat in the gunner's chair, not the pilots.

"Can you fly this thing?" she asked the droid.

He beeped an affirmative.

If it had been any other droid, Padme would have trusted her limited pilot's skills more than his, in the tight space of the hanger, but Artoo wasn't an ordinary droid.

"Keep a look out for the pirates," she said, pulling out the datapad.

If she could find the zygerrian's ship forcing the pirates to talk might even be unnecessary. Part of her was glad it had been Obi-wan to find them in the bar, and not Anakin. She knew her husband well enough to know he would not have shown the same subtlety. It both scared and comforted her that if she and Obi-wan could not convince them to talk, Anakin certainly would. Though she would much prefer if they had the information before he returned.

Not far away, Obi-wan was getting tired. He was also aware that—though he had not drawn his lightsaber—he had failed utterly at keeping a low profile. In their wake they'd left two destroyed landspeeders and tons of toppled cargo.

They were on foot now, having a full out blaster fight in a hanger which appeared to be empty of witnesses. It housed two mud spattered ships, one which the pirates used for cover, and one which was used by Obi-wan. He'd already dragged this out too long. The pirates had already guessed what he was.

Stepping into the open, he called his lightsaber to his hand. It slid from its hidden sling on his back, feeling comforting and familiar in his hand. He easily deflected the next volley of blaster shots. There were yells of alarm, and the weequay made a break for the door to the next hanger.

A stack of bushels of some dried plant sat in the corner of the hanger. With the force Obi-wan toppled it. It was a light material, but there was enough of it to knock the pirates to the ground. Obi-wan flipped through the air, clearing the debris completely and landing in front of the door.

The pirates were getting to their feet. Seeing the lightsaber, they may have given up, had their destination not only been two hangers away. Obi-wan pulled the blaster from the closest weequay, pushing him back down with the force. He held the tip of the lightsaber so close to his spiny forehead the pirate would feel the heat.

"You ready to have a nice, civilized conversation?" Obi-wan asked.

The weequay's friends were fleeing, but Obi-wan made no move to stop them. All he needed was one. Suddenly the force flared, warning of imminent danger. The pirate bared his teeth in something which resembled a grin, and Obi-wan realized what he held in his hand. It was a thermal detonator. He threw it at the Jedi's feet and launched himself at the door.

Obi-wan hurled the device down the full length of the hanger, but it exploded while still in the air. He barely had time to shield himself with the force. There was no way to stop the momentum of the blast from picking him up off his feet, so instead he controlled his flight so that it took him through the door after the pirates. With the force he slammed the door closed, stopping most of the heat. All the same, he could have sworn his beard felt a bit singed.

The pirates were already on the far side of this hanger, heading into the next. He took off at full speed. It was clear now that they weren't just running aimlessly or trying to lose him as they had been at the beginning. They had a destination in mind.

In the next room, he realized what it was. This small hanger held only one ship, and it rose into the air as they weequay approached it. If they made it on board he would be unable to pursue. He'd failed, been too cautious, and because of that their only lead on Ahsoka's whereabouts would slip through his fingers.

That was when he realized the weequay had stopped running. They looked confused. The ship hovered only a little off of the ground, but the ramp had not lowered to allow them to get on. Obi-wan looked up at the cockpit window, and relief washed over him. Padme grinned at him from behind the gun protruding from the ship's nose. He should have known the senator would have his back.

Artoo kept the Starless level as Padme aimed the gun. She fired once, the energy blast hitting the ground not far from the feet of the pirates. They were thrown backwards, towards Obi-wan. Looking back and forth between the Jedi and the gun of their own ship, the pirates finally accepted that they were out of options.

 **A/N: Sorry this took so long. I got a bit distracted. I wrote a one-shot you should totally check out and started another secret, Star Wars related project I hope to one day** **have enough written to post. Also I'm a university student, and engineering is a bitch of a program.**

 **If things go as planned we should see Ahsoka again in the next chapter. I know you guys miss her. As always, thanks so much for reading, and a gentle reminder that I love comments.**


	7. Scare Tactics

Deep in the maze-like alleys of Korono, Anakin and Rex had finally reached their destination.

"This is it," The Jedi exclaimed, and Rex saw that he was clenching and unclenching his mechanical hand. "It saw this place…"

The pair walked over some coloured cloth, their boots grinding it into the ground just as many had before them had. Rex understood what his general was feeling. His thoughts were also on Ahsoka. Sometimes Obi-wan's perpetual calm could wear on the nerves when someone they all cared for was in danger. All the same, Rex knew it was this which made him a good leader. With Anakin like this he was always a little on edge, waiting for the conflict which seemed to follow the man like a shadow; not that Captain Rex ever shied away from a fight.

They shoved through the beads across the door of T'sto's hostel. Behind the counter, Anakin saw the same small, reptilian alien from his dream.

It said something in a local dialect.

"Basic?" Anakin asked, frustration mounting.

He leaned on the counter, looking down at the creature. It shrank away, large eyes bulging.

"Bed for night?" it finally managed.

"Actually, we have a few questions for you."

It stared back at him blankly.

Anakin growled, looking back over his shoulder at Rex. "We don't have time for this."

The side of his fist slammed into the sheet of transparasteel which cordoned the little office off from the rest of the room. A few small cracks appeared, and the creature jumped.

"Anakin," Rex hissed, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

The general seemed to shake himself, and relaxed. The look he gave the alien was almost apologetic. Rex was used to this from Anakin. Usually the recipients of Anakin's wrath were—in Rex's opinion—deserving of it, or Obi-wan was there to defuse the situation, but the clone had found himself having to remind the Jedi of himself several times before this.

"Can you ask someone," Rex spoke slowly, motioning towards the back of the store, "translate?" He made a motion to his mouth.

"Yah," it answered, nodding frantically.

Holding up one of its three clawed fingers it darted through the nearest doorway. Soon after he returned with a zeltron woman. She was red skinned and as tall as Anakin, dressed like a refugee or a migrant of some sort.

"So," she asked, her basic no more accented than Obi-wan's, "why are you hassling old T'sto?"

"We're looking for a friend of ours," said Anakin, "she would have caused a bit of a disturbance."

She said something to T'sto which seemed to frighten him.

"I told him," she said, turning to them, "that you are here looking for the Jedi child."

Before either of them could respond the hostel owner said something.

"He said," she translated slowly, calmly, "that you are not the first ones."

"The zygerrians." Anakin bared his teeth.

"Yes," the zeltron said, "I was here that night. I saw them carry her out."

Rex kept his eyes on Anakin, curious and a little afraid of how he would react.

"Do you know where they took her?" Anakin asked, a little desperation leaking through his poker face. "How they knew she was here? Anything at all?"

The zeltron shook her head. She said something to the creature, and he shook his as well.

"Please try to think," Rex pushed, his spirits plummeting. "If you met her you know she's a good kid. She doesn't deserve this. If you could just give us something…"

"I would tell you anything I knew," the zeltron said, "but I know nothing. Only that they drugged her while she was sleeping, and that word got out she was a Jedi when she fought those weequay pirates."

"Pirates?" Anakin asked.

T'sto tugged at the end of the zeltron's tunic, speaking quickly.

"He says he is very thankful to her. She exposed herself to save his business, and maybe his life."

"But yet when they came for her you did nothing," Anakin's voice was low, tearful.

Seeming to understand at least partially, T'sto was saying something. They spoke back and forth for a moment, then the zeltron explained.

"He wishes me to say there was nothing he could do. The zygerrians threatened his life, his business, and the lives of everyone in it."

Anakin still stared angrily down at the small alien. "You understand me, right?" He crouched so that he could meet T'sto's eyes directly. "You're a coward. You could have warned her, done something! I should…" he trailed off, clenching and unclenching his mechanical hand.

"Come on," Rex placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder for a second time, guiding him up from his crouch, "they obviously don't know anything."

"But we can't just leave here," Anakin protested, "this is our only lead. We should ask around inside, find the floor she was taken from. There could be some clue."

Rex nodded, also unwilling to give up quite yet. That was when Anakin's communicator blinked. It was a burner bought from some pawnshop. The only ones with the frequency were those on their mission.

"What?" Anakin snapped.

"You should both come back to the spaceport." The voice on the other end was Obi-wan's. "Padme and I have got something." He sounded so cheerful it was clear that what they'd gotten a lead.

"Fantastic," Rex spoke into his. They all shared a channel. "We've come up mostly empty here. We should be back soon."

He gave Anakin a questioning look, and the Jedi nodded, seeming notably calmer. As they headed through the doorway, Anakin turned back one last time.

"Thanks for all your help," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sure he was annoyed, but Rex could tell this was one of his general's usual attempts at humour. The threat in his voice was gone. Rex understood that Anakin Skywalker was a dangerous man, and he had been around long enough to know the other Jedi did not always approve of his tactics. Though this was sometimes the cause of Rex's worries, today it was a comfort.

He knew Anakin would stop at nothing to get Ahsoka back. He would go past the edges of the galaxy, move stars, and crush anyone who got in his way. This was a comfort to Rex because he felt the same way, though he lacked the Jedi's power. So he would feed Anakin's flames for now, hoping that war would not change him as Rex had seen it change too many of his brothers.

Back at the ship, Padme and Obi-wan had shut the pirates in one of their own bunk rooms. Despite tireless searching, Padme had been unable to find the zygerrians in the landing data she'd stolen from the portmaster's office. After a bit of convincing, the pirates had told them why. The zygerrians had not landed in the spaceport. They'd forced themselves on some poor farmer, using their land to set down on Korono unnoticed.

Once the pirates had realized how difficult escape would be they'd warmed up to Obi-wan and Padme. They offered derogatory descriptions of the zygerrians, making it clear the disdain they held for the slavers. The captain, whose name was Wirek, had told them he had information on where the zygerrians had gone, but was trying to feel out whether or not he could get something in exchange for the information. They'd only just reached this stage, and the pirates had been in captivity almost an hour when Rex and Anakin returned.

Obi-wan, Padme, and Wirek sat around the table in the Starless's mess, as they entered. The rest of the crew was still locked in the bunk room.

The weequay was prattling on, hoping to wear them down through pure stubbornness. "I mean… I prefer to deal in spice, but republic credits would suffice, I suppose. My crew and I, we have medical expenses from our run-in with your friend. I know the Jedi to be honorable, you would never let us suffer."

"You!" Anakin's voice rang out, too loud for the cramped metal space.

Wirek jumped, not having noticed their entrance.

"You're the ones who attacked T'sto's," Anakin accused, grabbing Wirek by the front of his shirt. "It's your fault she had to reveal herself."

"Now, now…" Wirek had obviously been caught off guard, as had Obi-wan and Padme. "I'm sure we can be reasonable here. My crew and I were just out for a night on the town, we certainly didn't want any trouble with any Jedi."

"Shut up." Anakin let go, and the pirate fell to the floor, just barely missing the edge of his chair. "I can't believe scum like you think we owe you anything."

He activated his lightsaber.

"Anakin…" Obi-wan warned.

The younger Jedi met his eyes, the message clear. _I know what I'm doing._

"We only need one of you to talk," he said, holding the blade so close to Wirek's throat that one wrong breath and Anakin's words would become more than a threat.

He kept him from moving away with the force, holding him immobile where he sat on the floor. Such a sensation was terrifying, and Wirek quickly decided that he would do whatever he needed to end his interaction with this Jedi who was different than any he'd ever heard of.

"I have four other options," Anakin continued, "and you're really starting to piss me off."

"No murder necessary," Wirek said, almost afraid to speak for fear he would accidently move into contact with the lightsaber. He could feel the heat on his skin, and it was starting to hurt. "I will be happy to help you find your friend."

As easy as that, Wirek told them all they needed to know. Obi-wan could sense he was being truthful in the same way he could sense his fear of Anakin. The pirate didn't dare lie to them out of fear of retribution. As much as he was relieved to have their next step in locating Ahsoka, Obi-wan couldn't help but worry about his former Padawan. It was habit, at this point.

"Watch your anger," Obi-wan warned, as Rex shut Wirek back in with the rest of his crew. "It's a path to the dark side. I know you know that."

"I got results, didn't I?" Anakin retorted.

"I'm not arguing that. Just…" Obi-wan did not wish to turn this into a lecture. They had passed that stage in their relationship. There was something to be said for the good cop bad cop routine. "Just be careful," he finished.

Before Anakin could respond, Wirek's voice interrupted them, coming from around the corner.

"I thought you were going to leave us alone if I talked."

"We're thinking it over," Rex responded.

There was the distinctive sound of a door sliding closed then the clone reappeared.

"So," he addressed all three of them, "what's our next move?"

The pirate had no known who the zygerrians intended to sell Ahsoka to, but he had known where they'd heard about her in the first place. Wirek had also hypothesized that it was from here that the zygerrians conducted their business.

The next stop on their quest was a massive space station known as The Purgat Station. The name was vaguely familiar to Obi-wan, though none of the other had ever heard of it. Purgat Station was a place outside of the jurisdiction of any government. It presented itself as a massive casino, but it was so much more than that. It was a rest stop and place of business for the scum of the galaxy: a place for bounty hunters to find jobs, and stolen goods to be fenced. Slaves were no acceptation to this. Wirek's crew had been in communication with some friends on the station since their confrontation with Ahsoka, and Obi-wan thought it a reasonable assumption that this was how she had come to the zygerrians' attention.

"We're going to need a ship," Rex mused.

The four of them sat around the Starless's table, planning out the next leg of their journey.

"I'm running a bit low on credits," Padme admitted. "I know you two have some, but if we buy a ship even half was nice as this one our financial situation will finally match up with our cover story."

"You like this ship?" Anakin asked her.

She nodded.

"You have good taste." He paused. "What's it called again?"

"The Starless," Obi-wan answered for her. "And I think I might know where you're going with this."

His former Padawan grinned toothily at him from across the table. "I'll tell them to consider it our fee for leaving them alive."

"No need to try to scare us," Obi-wan said, eyebrows drawing together in concern, "save that for the weequay,"

Anakin shrugged. "Just getting in character."

"My only concern is that if we piss them off they'll make our presence here known to the Separatists."

"If they're going to do that they'll do it regardless," Anakin said. "Plus, from the sounds of it you didn't do the best job of staying under the radar anyways."

Obi-wan looked away, tight lipped smile on his face. Anakin had him there.

Anakin and Rex went into the room to deliver the news. Padme and Obi-wan waiting tensely with their hands on their weapons. They were unsure how well the pirates would take the news. Rex got easily into character. If he was trying to be scary, he wished he had his helmet, but standing beside Anakin he knew chances were they wouldn't be paying attention to him anyways.

At first the weequay protested, saying they'd played ball, that they'd had no quarrel with them until this point. This was cut short when Anakin lifted Wirek into the air with the force. The weequay struggled desperately, gasping uselessly as the Jedi tightened an invisible hand around his throat.

Good, Rex thought. It was the fault of these scum that Ahsoka was in danger in the first place. The weequay with the bandaged head made a dash for the door, and Rex slammed the butt of his blaster right into the old injury. The weequay crumpled to the floor and Rex kicked him in the stomach.

Wirek's spasms were becoming weaker, yet Anakin continued to hold him as if he'd forgotten he was there.

He addressed the crew. "We're taking this ship. There's really no reason to keep you alive other than our Jedi good will," he spoke sarcastically. "So that leaves you with two choices. One, you leave this ship here on Korono, and two you leave it once we're in orbit."

He let Wirek's body crumple to the ground. Rex kept his eye on the door. He was intelligent, even by clone standards, and the longer he spent with this group the more aware of their dynamics he became. He knew neither the Jedi Master nor the peace loving senator would approve of this side of Anakin. They did not understand that a certain degree of ruthlessness was required in wartime.

Outside, Obi-wan could not shake the feeling of dreed which had settled over him, all of a sudden.

"Are you alright?" Padme asked, astute as ever.

"I just have a bad feeling," he answered, "thought I guess I always have a bit of a bad feeling, these days."

The door to the dormitory slid open, and Padme's hand flew up, pistol at the ready. She was tense. He didn't blame her. Padme had seen her fair share of conflict, but for the past few years she had lived the sheltered life of a senator. This was not her world. The weequay filed out, but they did not look like much of a threat. One clutched his head. Two others supported Wirek between them. The captain didn't look so good, and Obi-wan's concern deepened.

Whatever methods Anakin was using, he intended to have a talk with him about their necessity.

"Can we at least grab a few things?" one of the weequay ventured, fearfully.

"What things?" Rex asked, brandishing his blaster. "These are our things."

His words sounded a little forced. He did not have the same knack for this character that Anakin did. Before the man in question could speak, Obi-wan interjected.

"I don't see the harm in it," he said, fixing both the Jedi and the clone with his most disapproving stare.

Padme, who was starting to feel a little guilty about mentioning she liked the ship in the first place, chimed in as well. "We're already taking their ship. We can't leave them with nothing."

"They could try to sabotage the ship," Anakin said.

"Then we'd better keep a close eye on them," Obi-wan was quick with a counter. "Artoo will go to the cockpit and run a full systems diagnostic. Rex and Padme can go and make sure this ships previous crew doesn't try anything on their way out. You and I are going to have a conversation."

Padme promptly joined Rex, blaster pointed at the nearest pirate. When the Jedi were alone, Obi-wan trapped Anakin in a stare. He did not look angry, more as if he was trying to read him.

"You are no longer my Padawan," he began. "Which is why I struggle with the fact that I must remind you of such basic lessons. Even younglings are aware of the importance of mercy, and kindness even to ones enemies. Jedi do not treat their prisoners as you have."

Obi-wan was talking down to him, and Anakin hated it, but he pushed down his anger. Fighting with his former master would get him nowhere.

"I don't take pleasure in this," Anakin said. "Fear is simply an effective tactic. That's what people like these pirates respect. What happened with Ztherr is a perfect example of what happens when you act with honour and expect everyone else to do the same."

"That was a mistake on my part, I admit that. But that does not mean we must stoop to the level of our enemies."

Anakin knew he was slipping. It was the stress which accompanied someone he cared for being in danger. Sitting across from Obi-wan's calming presence, he took a moment to clear his head, and began to feel a little bad. There was no arguing his method was the fastest and most effective at getting what they wanted, but now that he surveyed his own actions from a calmer mindset he understood Obi-wan's concern.

"I'll let you handle negotiations next time," he said, and he meant it.

"Together," Obi-wan corrected him. "I like the good Jedi bad Jedi thing we had going on. It's a good routine"

He flashed Anakin a smile, which he returned. The tension dissipated, and the pair headed to the cockpit to prepare for takeoff.

As the Starless headed for The Purgat Station, they were unknowingly heading away from Ahsoka. She had been in her new home only a few hours, and she had already come to the conclusion that if she did not figure out how to escape she was going to go insane. That was if they didn't kill her first.

She still wasn't completely sure who the zygerrians had sold her to. They'd knocker her out again when they'd brought her into the cell. Her best guess was the Separatists, though she dared to hope this was not the case. As she sat watching the door, she couldn't help but imagine Grievous walking through, or Dooku. A Jedi did not feel fear, she reminded herself, but it was pointless. The idea that she was in the hands of the Sith was almost too much for her. There would be no hope of escape then.

However the more she thought about it the more she realized that this was probably not the case. For one, the cell in which she was being held was rather odd. Though the walls were metal they were a strange colour, like a bronze or a gold. This seemed to be for aesthetic purposes, as were the rest of the furnishings. Aside from a fresher, her room was furnished with a simple bunk in one corner of the room, and a more lavish couch and low table near the center.

Her two arms were chained to opposite walls, and both legs shackles were attached to the wall behind her. The chains were so long this was not much of a hindrance as she moved around the room, unless she got too close to the door. The energy which made up the chains pulsed a dull orange, and she could barely feel the cuffs. Beside the door there was what looked like a large window, though she could see nothing through it but pitch black.

Then there was her clothes. She no longer wore the threadbare tunic she'd been wearing on Korono. In fact, she was quite scantily clad. A silk wrap covered her breasts, secured behind her with a gold ring. Her shorts were tight, coming only to her mid-thigh. This, in contrast to being in the hands of the Sith, did not scare Ahsoka. If whoever had her tried to touch her she'd rip their throat out.

Ahsoka paced the length of the room, waiting for something to happen, anything at all. She knew she should count herself lucky that boredom was the only torture that was being inflicted upon her, but she was pumped full of adrenaline with nowhere for it to go. She'd already attempted to pull the door open with the force to no avail. The window wouldn't shatter, and she'd also had no luck releasing herself from the energy bindings.

She knew someone was going to come in before they did. The length of the chains began to shrink, dragging her backwards across the polished floor. When they finally stopped she was held in an awkward position, arms pulled forward and out to the sides, feet barely able to stay on the ground. If they had tightened them anymore she would end up suspended in mid-air, staring at the floor.

Next, the window changed from black to transparent and Ahsoka got her first good look at her owner. He was a neimoidian flanked on either side by a magnaguard. She bared her teeth at him involuntarily. He was a disgusting creature with his flat green face, bulging eyes, and ridiculously extravagant robes and headdress.

Behind him, she met the eyes of a beast. She had not seen the likes of it before, with its shimmering dark blue coat, and eyes like a hyperspace lane. The best way she could describe it was as a large feline with two short tentacles hanging from its mouth. They twitched as it paced, and Ahsoka suddenly realized it was also trapped behind a pane of transparent material. It was not the only creature in the room. There were many beasts of many kinds. Even if she could not see them, reaching out through the force she could feel them.

But they were not the only thing on display in this room. A little further away than the catlike creature sat a case filled with ancient jewelry. She could feel the dark side coming off of it in waves. This was a collection, Ahsoka realized, and she was its newest addition.

The name of the neimoidian was Co-King Daine Dalloe. It was a title which had been officially decided upon only ten cycles ago after a long and tedious debate with his other Co-King. He studied the young Jedi with tremendous satisfaction. She put on a brave face, staring him down with surprising anger, but she was clearly helpless. The cell had been built by the best engineers he could afford, and he had quite a lot of money.

Nodding to his magnaguards, Co-King Dalloe indicated his intention to enter the cell. He was no idiot. He would not have risen so high in the ranks of the Separatists if he was. He knew how dangerous Jedi were, even restrained, even as children, and he had taken the proper precautions. There were two sets of magnetically sealed durasteal doors which—much in the style of a ship's airlock—were incapable of both being open at the same time. The window may have looked like a weak point but it was made of carbon crystal and was more than two feet thick.

As the second set of doors slid open before him Dalloe gave the togruta a polite nod of greeting.

"Welcome to Kru'vuren," he said.

He had not purchased her because he wished her harm; on the contrary he viewed her as a cherished possession. Daine Dalloe enjoyed enslaving dangerous things, and he would go to any means necessary to ensure he stayed in a position of power over her. All the same, he came to visit her with the intention of friendship. Through a combination of isolation and brainwashing techniques he was still figuring out the details for, Dalloe hoped to tame the Jedi Padawan. It was a farfetched dream, certainly, but Dalloe knew this girl must have left the Jedi Order for a reason.

The togruta had returned his greeting with nothing but an icy stare, and Dalloe knew he had to accept that the Jedi might have to be a captive beast. There were many in his collection too dangerous to train. He was used to it.

"What's your name?" he tried again.

The response was silence.

"So it's going to be like that?" Dalloe asked. Turning to the magnaguard, he said, "show her what happens when she's unnecessarily stubborn."

The droid jammed one end of his electric staff into her stomach, and she spasmed, clutching desperately at the energy chains. Yet, through it all, she made now sound, biting down so hard on her lip he was surprised it didn't begin to bleed.

"I just want to have a conversation," he said, as she looked back up at him, panting. "I am your new master and you will treat me as such."

"You're not." Her voice was so low at first he was unsure if he'd heard her.

"What?"

"You're not my master."

Dalloe intended to make her pay dearly for that, but before the magnaguards could move in for another strike the table lifted off the ground. It crashed into one of the droids, and before he could react the edge collided hard with Dalloe's head.

When Dalloe came too only a few seconds had passed. He was halfway across the room, and everything was spinning. The wound on his head hurt a lot. The table had cut all the way down to his exoskeleton. It had been his mistake not to attach the furniture to the floor. That would be fixed by tomorrow.

The still functioning magnaguard was electrocuting the Jedi. It stopped only long enough to smash her in the face with the side of the metal staff before it returned to the previous activity. Responding automatically, a group of battle droids had just entered from the airlock chamber. The girl was screaming now, though it sounded more like wheezing. When he finally commanded the droid to stop she hung limply from the chains, toes barely touching the ground.

"The situation appears to be under control, sir," one of the battle droid said, still keeping its gun trained on the motionless Jedi.

"Stay while I continue our conversation," Dalloe instructed.

"But Co-King," the same battle droid continued, "Co-King Var has been attempting to contact you for some time now."

Dalloe looked down at his blinking communicator. He hadn't noticed.

"Alright," he said, both for the benefit of the Jedi and the droids, "it appears I will have to continue this later."

As the second set of doors slid closed, the chains were returned to their original length and Ahsoka crumpled limply to the ground.

Daine Dalloe returned to the part of his large office not occupied by his collection. His desk was flanked on three sides by it, and on the fourth by a large window which ran along the entire front of the room. He brought up the hologram of his fellow ruler, bracing himself for whatever stress was sure to come.

Co-King Reyla Var was a neimoidian as well, and she was in charge of the southern hemisphere of Kru'vuren while Dalloe ruled the north.

"Daine!" she cried, flustered, as usual. "There has been another rebel attack. They destroyed a whole squadron of droids and took back their village."

"So send more droids," Dalloe said, itching to get back to the newest piece of his collection.

Somehow Var always seemed to have it worse in the southern hemisphere. In the time since they'd been instated Dalloe had experienced almost no rebel activity, while with Var it was one crisis after another. He had decided to chalk it up to poor leadership on the other Co-King's part instead of luck.

"With the troops we have now if the population were to militarize we'd be done for. Kru'vuren is a densely populated world, we'd be outnumbered."

"But the population isn't going to militarize," Dalloe said, confidently, "they're just scared civilians. That's what it all comes down to: fear. These people don't know how to fight, and they've seen what happens when even the army of the Republic tries to go up against us. Keep them scared and soon they'll stop rebelling and start working harder. And the harder they work the sooner we can start pumping out droids right here on world."

It appeared that, no matter what he did, this was going to be a long meeting for Dalloe. Governing a planet was a lot of work. There was policy to discuss, strikes to coordinate, and Separatist superiors to deal with.

Because of this, Ahsoka had been afforded some time to recover. She still sat on the floor of her cell, leaning against the wall. It seemed somehow like submitting to use the furniture provided to her. Despite the agony she'd experienced at the hands of the droid the only evidence of the torture was a slight quiver of her hands, and one bloody gash across her cheek.

On the other side of the door she sensed a presence. She tensed but did not get up. It did not feel like the neimoidian. When the second set of doors finally opened a blue skinned twi'lek girl entered. She carried a metal tray with an assortment of items.

It took Ahsoka a few moments to realize that she'd seen her before.

"It's you!"

This was the slave from the zygerrians' ship. Ahsoka sat up a bit straighter, intending to stand up and greet her guest, but a wave of pain from her fried nerve endings made her reconsider; too much effort. She slumped back against the wall as the twi'lek approached her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, placing the tray on the ground beside them as she knelt down next to Ahsoka.

"I've had worse," Ahsoka answered, truthfully.

The slave had brought some bacta, a plate of ration biscuits and a glass of water.

"I got interrupted last time," the girl said, following Ahsoka's gaze. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

Her sense of time had become so distorted Ahsoka honestly didn't have an answer.

Instead, she asked, "what's your name?"

"Cara'me," said the twi'lek, "and yours, Jedi?"

"Ahsoka. And like I told the slavers, I'm not a Jedi anymore."

Cara'me gently cupped her chin, turning her head so that Ahsoka's injured cheek faced her. It was badly bruised with a minor cut, both results of the side of the maganguard's staff. As the twi'lek softly applied the bacta Ahsoka was momentarily overcome with sentiment at this seemingly spontaneous act of kindness. She'd been alone in the outer rim too long without anyone to count on but herself, in a world where no one did anything that did not benefit themselves. Yet here Cara'me was, trying to help her, even after Ahsoka had inadvertently gotten her hurt.

How Cara'me had ended up here with her, she was unsure. She knew Kru'vuren was a mostly twi'lek inhabited planet.

"Are you from here? This planet?" Ahsoka asked.

Cara'me shook her head, lekku swaying. "I was born on Ryloth. The slavers gave me to the Co-King as a gift after they purchased you."

"Co-King?" Ahsoka asked. She had been confused ever since the neimoidian had mentioned they were on Kru'vuren. "I thought Kru'vuren was a democracy."

Cara'me had finished tending to her wound, and now simply sat across from her on the floor. "Wow, you really have been out of the loop, haven't you? Kru'vuren fell to the Separatists almost a standard month ago now."

A wave of sadness and illogical guilt washed over Ahsoka. She felt like this whenever she was reminded of the war which continued to rage on across the galaxy, even after she'd abandoned her duty. She didn't owe anyone anything, she tried to remind herself, but the feeling was impossible to shake. That was the price of having being raised a Jedi.

 **A/N: Wow, that was a monster sized chapter. Do you guys like long chapters or would you prefer I chop chapters like this up into bite sized pieces? I really want to hear what you guys think. Do you like the pacing? The structure I've been using with all the mini arcs? Just talk to me! You're all the bomb, thanks so much for reading.**


	8. Politician Jedi Soldier Spy

Padme sat hunched over the table in the Starless's mess, wrapped in two blankets which smelled a little too much like weequay. Her hands were wrapped around a cup of caf she was nursing, though she had it more for the warmth than to wake her up. She had been trying to sleep, though that had turned out to be pointless.

The only other one in the room, Artoo beeped at her from across the table.

"Your right," Padme said, "we probably should power back up the heating coils. I just don't intend to sit around here on the ship much longer."

She took a purposefully large gulp of her caf. According to the thermostat the ship's temperature hovered only a few degrees above the freezing point of water. The landing bay of Purgat Station was insulated from the vacuum of space, but it wasn't heated. It had taken a while for the interior of the Starless to cool down after all its systems had been shut off, but Padme was certainly feeling it now.

"They do it so we'll be forced to buy rooms in their hotel inside." Obi-wan's voice startled her. He'd entered so quietly she hadn't noticed. "Otherwise people would just sleep in their ships."

"Like we're trying to do?" she asked, teasingly.

"Yes." He took a seat in the chair next to her. "The price of fuel is actually pretty comparable to their cheapest rooms, though I suppose even smugglers enjoy the feeling of being on vacation."

"So this place is like an Alderaanian timeshare for the galaxy's criminals?"

"Oh yes, along with the commerce district on Coruscant, all wrapped into one."

There was a pause in the conversation, but it was a comfortable one.

"We need to be out there looking for Ahsoka," it was Padme who spoke first.

"I was about to say the same thing. Have you seen Anakin?"

Padme shook her head. It was funny to think that the first thing Obi-wan had done on waking up had been the same as her: checking to see if Anakin was awake. When she'd first woken up shivering, knowing she'd only had a few hours of sleep, her first instinct had been to find Anakin. They'd given her Wirek's captain's quarters out of respect, but she'd felt so lonely in the big bed. Okay, not big, but big in contrast with the bunks the rest of them had been stuck in.

Obi-wan had gotten a bunkroom to himself, and Anakin and Rex had been stuck sharing a room, not that they'd seemed to mind. However when she'd tiptoed in it had been only Rex asleep; seemingly impervious to the cold. The clone trooper was adept at catching a wink wherever he had the chance. Anakin's bunk had been empty, maybe not even slept in, which meant…

"He's loose in the station," Obi-wan mused.

Padme wouldn't have used those exact words, but yes.

"He probably couldn't sleep," she said, cutting off the rest of what she was about to say just in time.

She was going to say he always got like this whenever there was something worrying him, that he was the sort to get dreams, more often than not of the prolific kind. But how would she know that? Obi-wan was such a close friend to both of them sometimes she forgot they kept their secret from him as well.

"We should wake up Rex and head in out of this cold. We can meet up with Anakin inside."

Artoo came with them, trundling along behind as they walked through the high-ceilinged hanger bay and then through the large, ornately decorated portal. The entrance hall of the station was carpeted in red. Directly to the left sat the entrance to a gambling hall. Multi-coloured neon announced pleasure slaves, refreshments, and beast fighting.

"Remember," said Obi-wan. "We're bounty hunters now, not refugees. Let's act accordingly."

There were nods all around. Next, Obi-wan attempted to raise Anakin on the comlink. There was no answer.

"Not a good sign," said Rex. "I just wish he'd woken at least one of us up."

"Welcome to my world," Obi-wan said, trying the comlink again with similar results.

Obi-wan outlined the plan of action. He said that they would cover more ground if they were to split up. It was a large station. They were to mingle, observe, and hopefully find the base of operation of the zygerrian slavers. Wirek had been able to give them only one name: Baru, but at least it was somewhere to start. Obi-wan would go with Artoo, and Padme and Rex would stick together.

"I'll try my best to find Anakin," the Jedi Master explained. "But regardless I work just fine alone."

They were about to go their separate ways when Obi-wan attempted to contact Anakin one last time. This time it went through.

The voice on the other end was his, though it was hard to hear, as if he was whispering, "hey, Obi-wan. Now's not really the best time."

"What's happening? Do you need help? Where are you?"

There was a stretching pause, static crackling over the open link.

When Anakin spoke again he sounded a little breathless. "Don't worry. I've got everything under control."

There was a loud noise then only static.

"Anakin? Was that blaster fire? Anakin!"

Padme and Rex leaned in, trying to hear, but the link was dead.

"Blast," Obi-wan muttered. "That boy… I swear…" He seemed to shake himself, turning back to the other two members of their team. "Regardless, I say we proceed as planned. Hopefully you two can find some lead on Ahsoka while I'm busy dealing with," frustrated, he gestured at his comlink, "… this."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Rex offered. "He always is."

Those words meant a lot to Padme. Part of her wanted to insist she accompany Obi-wan in his search to find her husband, but another part whispered that she'd just get in the way. Maybe she couldn't keep up with Anakin, but few could. Ahsoka was still in danger, and she didn't intend to sit around while the Jedi did all the work.

"Come on Rex," Padme said, heading towards the gambling hall. "Let's start in here."

For Obi-wan, where to start was not as evident. He had a feeling that he would not find Anakin by following the others through the door, but that was all the force was giving him. On both sides of the hall glass tubes housed lifts to the upper levels of the station, and to down below the carpeted floor. Ahead of him was a train which would take him into the bowls of this orbiting metal monstrosity. He decided to start there. He'd ride it around the loop, looking for signs of the chaos which tended to follow his former Padawan.

Padme and Rex found themselves in a thin, circular lounge. Far below, in a large arena, two terrifying creatures tore at eachother's flesh. The sounds of their battle and the cheering of the crowd were muted by the thick window separating the two areas. Here, wagers were made and drinks were consumed before patrons took one of the many lifts down into the arena below. Padme and Rex took seats at a high table. Jazzy music filled the air, and a scantily clad twi'lek server approached them from the nearest bar.

"Can I get you _anything,_ today?" she asked, hand on the back of Rex's chair as she made sensual eye contact with both of them in turn.

The clone seemed a bit flustered, and Padme was reminded that the only females he'd spent any substantial amount of time with were either Kaminoan or Ahsoka. She, on the other hand, was adept at dealing with all manner of social situations.

"I'll have a Correlfruit Neutron Star," Padme said, returning the twi'lek's gaze.

"Drinking again so soon?" Rex asked.

Padme shrugged. "We need to blend in. Plus, it's my favourite drink, and I've yet to find a place on Coruscant that makes it right."

"Alright," said Rex, "make it two then."

As the twi'lek swayed away Padme was already planning. This was what she did after all, or at least a variation. She dealt in information and fake friends, while she knew Jedi struggled with any task which could not be solved with a lightsaber. True, Obi-wan was a bit of an exception, and she knew she was being a little harsh in general, but she was still mad at Anakin for disappearing. One missing loved one at a time was quite enough for her.

Rex didn't say anything as she stitched them together a cover story. She knew he was still a little uncomfortable being alone with her. He switched between watching the beast fighting below, and studying her out of the corner of his eye.

The twi'lek brought over their drinks. The glasses were long stemmed and cone shaped. The liquid was aquamarine with a reflective pink berry floating in the centers. It almost seemed to glow when it caught the right light.

"Thanks," Padme said, trying her best to read their server as quickly as possible.

In her forming plan, the twi'lek woman could end up being useful.

"Hey," Padme caught her attention just as she was about to turn away, "girl. What's your name?"

Politics was all about playing a character, and Padme fell easily into her newly created one.

The pleasure slave came back to lean on the table in front of Padme with a well-rehearsed—though successfully charming—smile.

Rex was a little thrown. Padme was acting strangely, all of a sudden. She oozed confidence, like she'd just been able to flip and switch and turn it on. She'd flipped the switch and suddenly she was a politician. Rex had always been a little afraid of politicians, but up until that point he'd been able to forget Padme was one. After all, was surviving in the Galactic Senate really that different than surviving in a place like this?

"I'm Dia," said the twi'lek. "May I ask your name, ma'am?"

"Call me Padme. You seem like a smart girl, Dia. I'm glad me and my friend ended up in your section. Can I count on you to come over and check on us in about ten minutes? We should be ready for the next round by then." She mock-shielded her mouth from Rex. "Or maybe it just takes me that long to get board of his company."

Dia giggled. She turned and headed back to the bar, smiling at a few other table of guests on her way there. However, she turned back to look at them once, and on seeing that they were looking in her direction, waved and flashed them a grin.

Padme took a proud sip of her drink. It had been so long since she'd played a character other than senator, and she had created this one so quickly. She'd been unsure if what she'd been going for would come across. She was pretty sure it had, and even if Dia didn't prove to be helpful it would give her some help fleshing out the character.

She took a sip of her Neutron Star. It was delicious, exactly the way she liked it. It reminded her of the more exciting diplomatic missions of her youth, before the war had made such things unsafe. Rex was eyeing the drink rather dubiously.

"Just because it tastes good doesn't mean it won't get you drunk," Padme prompted, with a smile. "I promise I won't tell your brothers."

Rex smiled back. "I appreciate that, but I have more questions about what you're planning that I do about the drink. What were you playing at with the twi'lek?"

It was time for her to explain the plan. "While Obi-wan and Anakin are getting into trouble, I intend to find Ahsoka my way." Padme could tell she had his attention. "Politicians are more suited for the work of spies than Jedi, in my opinion. From personal experience I've learned they're not the best at blending in. What about you, Rex, can you blend in? Are you willing to play along with me?"

The clone nodded curtly. "I will try my very best."

"Perfect, because I've created us both characters who might have a chance at obtaining the information we need."

Padme explained. She had been born a pleasure slave, but secured her freedom through dubious means. Now she worked as a madam, providing the galaxies highest quality of pleasure slaves to a loyal client base. She treated her workers well, offering more autonomy than could often be found in the business. She was starting to branch out, and had come here in search of _speciality items_ , potentially dangerous slaves who fulfilled specific fantasies. That was exactly the business the zygerrians were in, and this fake identity would legitimize their search for them. Rex was her muscle: a loyal bodyguard. If he wanted more backstory than that it was up to him.

"Honestly," she said, "you can even work with that recognizable face. Clone war deserter is as good a backstory as any."

"Whatever you say," Rex said. He'd been listening intently, nodding along. "You're really good at this. Did you really come up with all that on the spot?"

Padme looked away modestly, incapable of completely supressing her smile.

"I know the gener—"Rex caught himself, "Obi-wan and Anakin. I've been on covert missions with them before, and things never go smoothly. You're better at this sort of thing, I'm glad you came with us."

"What happened?" Padme asked.

"The last time, Obi-wan and I ended up spending a few weeks as slaves on some asteroid mining colony." He laughed like it was a joke, but Padme got the sense this was not a humorous memory.

She changed the subject by picking fun at their Jedi counterparts, hoping to distract him from whatever memory she'd inadvertently brought back. "Well here's to luck," she raised her drink to toast, "that they won't manage to blow up the station while we work."

Rex laughed, pinching the thin stem of his glass and knocking it against hers.

Yes, Padme decided, she could definitely make this work. If only she'd had the foresight to dress for the occasion. If she'd had the resources she could have projected the identity of successful madam without even having to speak. At least she didn't look like a refugee anymore. She'd removed her shawl, and though she still wore her pilot's jacket underneath she'd changed to a formfitting bodysuit. It was made of a light body armour that screamed bounty hunter.

Dia was coming back over.

She refilled their drinks, making conversation about the biggest beast fights happening today, and who she would wager on. Padme stopped being as chatty half way through the interaction, fixing Dia with an analytical stare.

"Is there something wrong?" Dia asked, when Padme didn't respond to her comment about Krayt dragons.

"Nothing at all, dear. I was just wondering how a pretty thing like you could have ended up getting stuck in a place like this. You're not your average server, you know?"

Dia did not have a clan name, indicating she'd probably been born into slavery. It was possible she'd never left Purgat Station in her life.

"Thank you."

Padme recognized the twitching of her lekku as the twi'lek equivalent of a blush. The conversation continued, with only brief interruptions as Dia went to serve other customers. She always came back to hang near their table, as Padme filled her head with stories of the imagined life she'd created for herself just minutes prior. It was clear the slave was interested in what she was selling. Rex was almost completely silent for the duration of the interaction, but he watched Padme work with admiration.

"I didn't come here to recruit," Padme finished, "but you're an exceptional girl. You've caught my attention. If you were interested in coming to work for me I'd certainly consider it."

Dia laughed nervously, glancing around as if she was afraid someone was watching. "Master Meerion wouldn't be happy to hear you plan on stealing me away."

"Don't be silly my dear, I'd pay the price for you, of course. I purchase all the slaves who work for me. Thievery is bad for business." Dia's eyes had lit up, and suddenly Padme felt a little bad for stringing her along like this. "Of course, I can't begin to think about such things until I get what I came for. I only carrying a certain number of credits on my person."

"What did you come for?" Dia asked. "If you don't mind me prying."

"I don't mind at all. In fact, maybe you can help me. I'm not personally familiar with Purgat Station. I'm here looking for slavers who deal with the exotic, and the untamed. All I have to go on is half a recommendation. I've heard the name Baru dropped in reference to such things."

Sadly, the name did not ring any bells for Dia. However she was eager to help. She knew that Station regulars often owned private back rooms or booths in the fancier of Purgat Station's two clubs. She offered to introduce Padme and Rex to a friend of hers who worked in the club: another pleasure slave. She said that he was very knowledgeable on the players and politics of the station.

She brought them up herself, seemingly only a little nervous about leaving her assigned post. Padme got the sense that this was not the only situation in which Dia could be seen leaving with patrons. They road up one of the lifts in the entrance hall. The music could be felt vibrating through the floor before they even rounded the corner to see the entrance of the club.

 _Razor Lounge_ was printed above the door in basic. The large, trandoshan bouncer showed that no every visitor of the station would be allowed through. Padme linked arms with Dia, and Rex drew himself up, putting on his best bodyguard impression. They were let through without question.

It did not take long for Dia to find her friend, after they had made their way around the edge of the crowded dance floor. He was flirting with two human woman at a table near the back, however he left without a glance backwards when Dia beckoned him over. She introduced him as Lla'rani. He was striking, even by pleasure slave standards. That was probably how he'd landed the spot in the club. He was an orange twi'lek, already a rare sight, but he also sported curling gold tattoos down his lekku and his arms. He was shirtless and carrying an empty drink tray, and Padme had to remind herself that despite the fact he projected rehearsed confidence, he probably did not enjoy this life any more than any other pleasure slave she'd ever met.

"…and she started out a pleasure slave. She was born into it." It appeared, while she'd been lost in thought, Dia had already gotten half way through telling Lla'rani her invented backstory.

Coming up with a character was one thing, but keeping up the act consistently was another. However there was no backing out now, Padme knew that. Lla'rani seemed willing enough to help her out, and said he might even know the zygerrians she was thinking of.

"I'm sorry," Dia cut in, "I wish I could help more, Padme. You're the most interesting person I've met in quite some time, but I can't risk being away from my post any longer."

"Go," Padme shooed her. "You've done so much already. Thank you, truly."

"I'll come visit you and Lla'rani when I get a little time off," she said, "if you're still around that is. I'd probably come see Lla'rani anyways."

"Maybe I'll see you later, then." Padme smiled at her.

As the female twi'lek disappeared in among the crowd she turned urgently back to Lla'rani. "You were saying, about the zygerrians?"

"Yes, I think I may know the pair you're talking about: the slavers. They are here a lot. They have a private room in back where they conduct business." Lla'rani had light a Ryloth accent, unlike Dia who'd had none at all.

"And they are named… Baru?" Padme pressed.

"One of them is. The other, I believe, is Derren."

"Do you know if they're here? If I could meet with them?"

"I haven't seen them in several days. I don't think they're on-station, and even if they were I couldn't get you back there. Security is tight: our bouncers, and body guards hired by all sorts of nasty people. Your best bet is probably to hang around here for a while, socialize. If they don't show up, you still might talk to someone who knows where they are."

"I think I'll do that," said Padme. "I've learned that every setback can be an opportunity. This club could be full of potential clientele."

As a career politician, Padme could spew druk like this on command. It happened almost involuntarily as her mind was occupied with other things. Rex stood diligently by her side, having been silent thus far aside from a brief introduction. She met his eyes. Lla'rani had been briefly distracted by a passing man who seemed to recognize him. Rex took this opportunity to lean in and whisper in her ear.

"I'm thinking I can slip away and see if I can get back there, take a look around."

"It's like you read my mind."

Razor Lounge was unlike anywhere Rex had been before. He'd spent a fair amount of time at military bars on Coruscant, and had visited a few dives in the underlevels, but this club was clearly for the galaxy's higher class of scum. Everyone here looked like they had money, or were working for someone who did. It was dark, and the lighting was disorienting. Bands of glowing blue traced the edges of the room, and ran across the ceiling, floor, and being the bar.

Rex slipped away from Padme and Lla'rani, in among the crowd, but he felt very out of place. This was not what he had been trained for. He was a soldier not a spy. He'd felt useless watching Padme work; useless and deeply impressed. At first he'd worried her presence on the mission would just be one more thing to worry about, but he realized now that she had strengths Obi-wan and Anakin did not. Just like he had strengths she didn't. He'd been trained in stealth, in covert operations. This was no different than any other time he'd been behind enemy lines. How hard could it be to get past a few bodyguards?

Rex walked through the area of the club which housed the private booths. Most were occupied; large egg-shaped structures with blue lights running around the central tables and the back of the couches. Some of the entrances were covered by curtains so Rex could not see inside. Passing a slave carrying an empty drink tray, Rex saw the entrance to the back area. Two gamorreans with stun batons and basters on their belts stood on either side. The entrance itself was ray shielded, stylistically blue instead of the usual orange.

There was no way he was getting through there. One of the hulking aliens seemed to have noticed him staring. His beady eyes scrutinized him, snout wrinkling. Rex quickly slid out of site between two booths, and set about casing the terrain.

It took a bit over a standard hour for Rex to construct a satisfactory blueprint of Purgat Station in his mind. The area below his target housed the offices of bookies who took care of the betting on the fights in the stadium next door. A scruffy looking man was bartering uselessly with a toydarian in the hall, oblivious to the pair of guards coming up behind him. Rex kept the brim of his hat low over his eyes, walking quickly around the next corner. In this hallway, he found what he had been looking for. A large ventilation grate sat up where the ceiling met the wall. He'd need to get inside quickly before someone could happen upon him.

As Rex reached inside his coat for his tool pouch, he was also listening intently. It appeared this particular hallway was deserted, at least for now. It was a small offshoot housing only a few offices; if the dingy rooms could be called that. Rex chose the electric screwdriver on his multitool. It was cutting edge, able to overcome even the most friction resistant alloys.

He made short work of the grate and lifted himself nimbly inside, putting the grate back into place behind him. This was certainly not the largest air duct he'd ever crawled through, and he'd crawled through his fair share of air ducts. Rex wiggled through the hot, metal pipe until he reached the place where it connected with a larger, vertical shaft.

Thankfully it was still thin enough he'd be able to brace himself across the pipe and shimmy upwards. The vent below him dropped off into darkness, and as he lowered himself into a braced position he was hit by a wave of warm and surprisingly smelly air. He'd only made about a meter of progress before a terrifying sound echoed up from the vents below. If it was an animal of some kind he'd never heard anything like it. It was high pitched, but somehow also rumbling. Rex climbed a little faster. The further he was from whatever they were keeping in the lower levels, the better.

Once he reached the back area of the Razor Lounge Rex did not immediately exit the pipe. He moved slowly through the ventilation, peering down into the different private rooms. Some were set up like offices, others like lounges. One sported a stripper pole, and quite a few pleasure slaves. Rex didn't look down onto this private party for too long. From looking at the choice of interior decoration it was possible to get a sense of the owner's species. Still, he was beginning to worry that even if he found the zygerrians' office he wouldn't know it. What if he'd passed it already?

The force appeared to be on his side, however, because he was given an easy tell. After his time as a slave in the zygerrian re-education center he could recognize one of their helmets anywhere. It sat as a proud centerpiece on the room's low table. It was possible that helmet was there for another reason, but it was the best lead he'd gotten so far. Rex dropped down into the room. Baru and Derren were making good use of their space. Comfortable couches and the table took up most of the room, with a desk on one side and a bar on the other.

He went to the desk, finding a datapad, and holodeck. After fighting with the semi-sentient datapad unsuccessfully, he moved onto the holodeck. It was a simple trick to find out to where the last call had been made.

When Rex saw the coordinates he recognized them instantly. He'd had many friends who had died there, still recently enough that it stung. He remembered standing beside Anakin on the bridge as they pushed the hyperdrive to the limit, trying to reach the battle before there was no battle to reach. They'd been too slow. He remembered the somber mood which had fallen over the 501st when the official order for retreat had come through. Now it appeared he would be visiting Kru'vuren after all.

He was planning how he was going to get himself back up into the vent when the door slid open. The two gamorrean bouncers stood in the frame, both of their blasters trained at his chest.

"Don't move," one of the gamorreans grunted, in very broken basic. "One twitch and…"

He made as if he was about to pull the trigger, but stopped just millimetres short. Rex didn't even flinch. He was a soldier. He embraced death in the service of this cause, just as he had embraced it in service of the Republic. What he hadn't realized was that the datapad had been just sentient enough to know he wasn't supposed to be here, and to tell someone about it.

In the time it had taken for Rex to reach this point in his mission, Padme had met many interesting people, and learned much about the hierarchy and politics of Purgat Station. For example, she'd learned that the station was owned by a pantoran named Luce Meerion. Meerion liked to have his hand in every pocket, and his ear in every illegal dealing which took place within the walls of his station. He was an entrepreneur and a dangerous man, but right now he was giving Padme a tour.

He'd offered to show her the hotel when she'd admitted she'd been planning to sleep on her ship. She'd been unable to refuse. When Lla'rani had introduced them her first emotion had been panic. This was too much attention, too much visibility. Meerion had been nothing but friendly up to this point, the perfect host, but Padme was still on edge. Like all pantorans he was blue skinned and humanoid. He showed his wealth with the lavish silken robe he wore, so in fashion that he would not have looked out of place in the senate district on Coruscant. His hair was light pink and wavy, and he was not much older than herself.

Right now he was talking about how he'd come to be in the position he was. Padme nodded along, smiling with practiced interest.

"You may have been told I work for the Hutts, but please don't think they gave this to me. When I found it Purgat was just an abandoned mining station. All this…" he gestured proudly around them as they entered a room housing one of the station's transport trains "…this was my vision."

A protocol droid informed them that the train would be arriving shortly.

Padme shot a look at Lla'rani, trying desperately to get a handle on the situation. With Rex gone, she'd needed to have at least one ally; so she'd asked if he could accompany them. The pleasure slave returned her gaze, and gave a smile. He seemed to be a little nervous, but not overly so. From his stories she'd gotten the sense that he dealt with Meerion fairly frequently.

Strangely enough, Meerion was not accompanied by any bodyguards. That lead to the realization that even in a place as chalked full of dangerous people as Purgat Station, he felt safe. After all, every regular knew him and wished to stay on his good side, every guard they passed was under his employ, every droid, every camera.

The train slid silently into the station. It was less of a train and more of a long floating platform with joints. Either side of the central hallway were lined with comfortable couches with surprisingly clean cushions. It was also mostly empty. Padme realized she had been silent too long. It was time she asked the question which had been weighing upon her.

"Don't get me wrong," said Padme, stepping aboard the train, "meeting you has been an absolute pleasure. But I've been in this game too long not to know that everyone has intentions. What are yours with me? Is it safe to assume you don't give all your guests this much attention?"

Meerion took a seat between her and Lla'rani. "Just the interesting ones. You'd be surprised to hear we have few new players come through the station. This is my world, and I rarely leave it, I know everyone worth knowing here, and a new arrival like you is exciting. Also, I am a business man, and you are a business woman. A business like yours would be good for Purgat Station. I know many who are unwilling to operate all the way out here, but maybe I can show you the benefits. Was that honest enough for you?"

"Perfectly," Padme said, "my respect goes to an entrepreneur who doesn't talk in riddles. It's true I came here in search of a specific business opportunity, but it seems the force has presented me with many more. Purgat Station is an interesting place, and I will be sure to return here after I find the unique slaves I came here searching for."

Padme looked down over the edge of the train. The floor below them was glass, and far below she could see another train. This one had ordinary, front facing seats, and was much more crowded than the one on which she road. Below that train was another glass floor through which she could see the massive gas giant around which they orbited.

"Ah, yes," said Meerion, "Baru and Derren are both good friends of mine. They are lynchpins of the luxury slave trade, not just in the outer rim but throughout the entire galaxy. I am afraid, however, that they are not here. I am unsure about when they will be back. Stay on Purgat a while, take a vacation. There are some other slavers who come through here often I can introduce to you, but I doubt any of them will have the selection of exotic slaves you are looking for."

"Sadly," said Padme, "I can't remember the last time I've been capable of taking a vacation." This was probably the most truthful thing she'd said thus far in their conversation.

Suddenly Meerion stiffened. "One moment please."

He touched the communicator on his wrist, and seemed to be listening. Padme saw the glint of a micro-comlink in one of his ears.

Lla'rani attempted to strike up a conversation with her, telling her how fantastic the upper levels of the hotel were, but Padme barely responded. Too much of her attention was fixed on Meerion.

"Mmhm…mmh…yes…"

He was giving very little away. His eyes flickered over to her, and she was unable to read the look on his face. It was certainly different than before.

"Meet us near the hotel's upper train station," he said, ending the call.

"What was that?" Padme asked, casually.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with."

Padme suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

For the rest of the time until they reached their stop it was Lla'rani who carried the conversation. Meerion got out first, offering her his hand as she went to step up onto the platform.

"Madam Duura?"

She accepted his unnecessary gesture nervously, trying to understand the edge which had appeared in his voice.

"Thank you Master Meerion."

"Please, please, Luce is fine. Many of our regulars call me that."

"Of course. And feel free to call me Padme."

She was relieved when Meerion released her hand.

He led them into a private area behind the reception desk. It was probably a break room for the receptionist; small and dingy with the only other exit being a service elevator. When she looked at Lla'rani she could tell he was nervous now. His eyes flickered between the two of them, panicked and confused.

"What are we doing in here?" Padme asked, trying to sound unworried.

"Waiting for someone," Meerion answered.

He stood between them and the door, eyes fixed intently on the elevator.

When the metal doors slid open Padme felt her heart drop down to her feet. The elevator held three figures, two bulky gamorreans and Captain Rex. Rex had his arms trapped behind his back by energy bindings and there was a nasty bruise forming on his cheek. The pig-like aliens dragged him forward into the room and threw him unceremoniously to the ground.

"Rex!" Padme crouched next to him, touching his face gently. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Rex grunted, pulling away from her and getting stiffly to his feet.

"She's not involved in this," he said. "She didn't know what I was doing."

Padme began to look around desperately for means of escape. Lla'rani had backed into a corner. He would be no help. She had her blaster, but both the gamorreans were armed. She'd be no match for them.

"Yes she did," said Meerion dismissively. Turning to Padme, he said, "it crossed my mind before, that with the timing of your arrival there might be one specific slave you were looking to obtain. Now I know for sure. There's only one reason someone like you would take a risk like this."

Padme couldn't breathe.

"Money. More specifically, the money you could make off of a captive Jedi. I have no idea how you found out, but whatever buyers you had lined up are going to be disappointed. Baru and Derren found a buyer of their own."

So Meerion knew. Of course he did. If Ahsoka had come through Purgat it would not have slipped by him. Padme was constructing a response, maybe something about how they could have gotten a better price through her, when Meerion said something odd.

"So," he asked Rex, "who'd they sell the Jedi to?"

"What?" Rex asked, as confused as she was.

"Did you find out, or was your whole trick with the ventilation for nothing? Separatists? Black Sun? Who was it?"

So maybe there were some things Meerion didn't know. Rex still looked confused. He gave Padme a look.

"Tell him," she said, partly because she wasn't sure how it could make this worse, but mostly because she wanted to know.

Maybe they were in a bad situation right now, but if they knew were Ahsoka was it might just be worth it.

"I'm not completely sure, but the last calls they made were to Kru'vuren."

"Sith Spit!" Meerion swore, pressing his hand to his head and looking honestly distraught.

More confused than ever, Padme's hand floated towards her blaster.

"Those lazerbrained… Kru'vuren, of course, it makes sense! If only they'd told me I could have had the Pykes off of my blasted station."

"Are you alright?" Padme ventured.

Meerion took a deep breath, his composed mask reappearing. "Yes. I'm sorry for that little outburst. It doesn't concern you or your friend. I'm just a little cross at Baru, is all." He seemed to shake himself, addressing his next command at the gamorreans. "Release him."

The guards obliged without question. Meerion must have caught the questioning look in Padme's eyes, for he explained. "I'm not angry with you, Padme. I like you. I'm not going to throw you off my station for a little sneaking around. No harm was done, and you didn't know how things work here. However," his voice turned threatening, "you do now. By letting this slide I'm showing that I trust you. Any further actions of this nature will therefor fall under a betrayal of my trust… and the consequences of that are much more severe."

"Your lenience with us is much appreciated," said Padme.

Suddenly Meerion was beaming. "Perfect! How about as way of my apology with this unpleasantness, you and your friend join me in my private box for this orbit's headlining beast fight. I don't want our interaction to end on such a tense note."

He sounded surprisingly genuine.

"We'd love to," Padme conceded.

"Perfect. Lla'rani, you will be coming with us as well."

The twi'lik nodded. "I'd love to, Master."

"You really got us out of that one," Rex whispered, as Meerion lead them out of the room.

The guards did not follow them.

Padme nodded, leaning in very close before delivering her response. "Yes, but I would have liked to avoid attracting this much attention."

She planned to find some excuse to slip away after the fight. Turning down Meerion's invitation after he had excused their transgression would not have been wise, but now that they knew Ahsoka's location she felt like she was wasting time. They should be planning their next move. With the military blockade which still surrounded Kru'vuren it would not be an easy place to reach.

When they arrived at the arena, it was more crowded than it had been earlier that day. The ring was also currently empty. Lowering down into the stadium their senses were assaulted by excited voices, and the smells of both food and booze. This rabble was separated from them by the walls of Meerion's private booth. A private lift lowered them down directly from the bar above.

Dia had found them in the bar. At first she'd been flustered to seem them with her master, but after Padme had spoken highly of her he had invited her to join them.

"We're going to see the Krayt Dragon I told you about earlier," Dia was saying, excitedly. "I've never seen one before. I've just heard stories. Have you seen one?"

Padme shook her head, answering honestly. "I have been to Tatooine but I had the good fortune to not run across one."

 _"Are you ready?"_ a voice boomed from all around them. _"We have a special treat for you today. And no, I don't mean the Krayt Dragon…"_

"Oh," said Lla'rani from behind them, "I know what that means. I hope you're not squeamish, Padme."

"What are you…?"

The announcer answered her question before Lla'rani could. _"The Krayt Dragon will be facing off against three of one of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy: the human."_

"I wonder what they did to piss Master off," Dia hissed to Lla'rani, then stiffened when she seemed to realize how close her master sat to them.

"Nothing to me directly," said Meerion, "but something to some powerful guests who are beginning to overstay their welcome. Though, I can only pull to mind who one of these humans might be."

Massive energy shield on one side of the arena was opened, and the Krayt Dragon emerged. As it entered, it released the same bone chilling cry Rex had heard echoing up the ventilation shaft. It was three times Padme's height to the top of its shoulder blade. Sharp spines covered its long neck, and its glinting teeth were almost the size of a forearm. It swung its massive tale, denting the metal wall of the ring. People were vacating the front few rows despite the protective energy barrier.

Then, something began to rise from below the center of the arena. A ray shield descended all the way from the top of the massive hall, like a protective spotlight. When the platform appeared above the level of the floor Padme and Rex saw the three prisoners.

Two of them were familiar. Anakin and Obi-wan stood beside a dark skinned woman, their wrists bound together by energy bindings. They could be seen, larger than life, on the massive screens hanging from the ceiling. The bindings were released, and the Jedi hurried to grab small vibroblades which had been left by their feet.

Among all the emotions swirling within Padme—terror, desperation, sadness—the most prominent one was disbelief. She turned to Rex and saw her own feelings reflected in his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, "how did they even manage to…?"

Rex could give her no answer.

 **A/N: But I will, with the next chapter running parallel to this one and showing you what Anakin and Obi have been up to.**

 **You guys should not have encouraged me when I asked about chapter length, because look at this monstrosity. I hope I didn't throw too much at you at once here. I know there was a lot of new setting and characters for one chapter, but it just kind of happened. As always, tell me what you think. Do you like that I gave Padme and Rex their own chapter? I want to give them a fair amount of attention, and everyone tends to be overshadowed when Anakin is in the room.**


	9. Pyke Trouble

Obi-wan sat on one of Purgat Station's hover-trams, trying to meditate. He reached out into the force, feeling for any trace of his bond with Anakin. He could feel the younger man, not too far, but yet he did not know in which direction. With a sigh he gave up, gazing down over the edge of the train. The view was breathtaking. Through the glass floor he could see the gas giant Purgat. It was a mosaic of twisting strokes of purple and red, as if it were a painting and not an atmosphere of highly corrosive gas.

He turned to Artoo, thinking aloud. Talking to the droid was a habit he'd picked up from Anakin. "We should try to get our hands on some surveillance tapes. They might help us locate Anakin, if not Ahsoka."

Artoo beeped.

"Not a sparkling conversationalist, are you?"

The response was another beep, this one somehow ruder. Both Anakin and Padme could understand the droid's binary speech, to a degree. However Obi-wan's ability to understand Artoo was almost non-existent. He planned to work on that. He did have his own astromech, after all.

As the train slowed down to approach a stop Obi-wan's eyes were drawn to a disturbance. A drunken human was fighting an equally drunk weequay on the platform. In the state they were in, it was more likely that they would do harm to themselves than each other. The tram clicked into place, and people began to pour off, as many rushing on to take their place. This was the busiest station yet.

This on its own might have been enough to cause Obi-wan to disembark, but the choice was made for him when the drunken human pulled out a blaster. He fired off a shot, seemingly by accident. It missed the shoulder of a woman by mere centimeters, and she screamed. Suddenly the platform was in chaos.

Obi-wan jumped over the railing, not even bothering to take the few steps down the aisle to the door. He knew he could deescalate the conflict without violence; it was what he did. However, before he could reach the blaster-waving human, a pair of modified police droids emerged from the throng. It appeared he would not be needed. Each droid grabbed a man roughly by the arms, and confiscated both of their weapons.

Curious, Obi-wan followed to see where they would take them. They passed the entrance to the hotel where a group of beings were smoking despite the fact that they were all technically inside. A little ways down the platform was the entrance to what appeared to be a bar. It was a dive if Obi-wan had ever seen it. There were surely glamorous parts of Purgat Station, but they were far from here.

In the hallway leading to the interior of the establishment, there was one inconspicuous portal. It slid open as the droids approached, and closed quickly after they entered. Obi-wan was left standing in a claustrophobic metal hallway, facing a blank door. So he decided to continue on into the bar. Artoo followed him, having just managed to catch up. What would happen to the drunks, Obi-wan wondered. What did it take to get kicked off of the station?

The bar did not smell pleasant. What exactly it smelled like he couldn't identify; too many unpleasant odors mixing together, too many body fluids of too many species, and not nearly enough ventilation. The music was low, barely audible over the background noise. In one corner was one of the console through which bounty hunters could find jobs. A group of unpleasant characters clustered around it. Thankfully, Obi-wan didn't recognize any of them. He'd encountered his fair share of bounty hunters, and being recognized now would be disastrous.

He settled down at the end of the bar. It was busy and the bartender didn't notice him. A small screen showing old HoloNews reels caught his eye. It was on mute, no one paying attention to the flickering frames. Obi-wan saw his own face. He knew the type of program this was. He'd seen many of them. He and Anakin had been turned into the heroic faces of this war, despite how they felt on the matter. He couldn't hear what the newscaster was saying, but his mind filled in the blanks.

 _Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, together there's nothing the Separatists can do to stop them. War might be hell, but once they arrive they'll save the day!_

If only that were always true. The shot they showed now was right after a successful space battle. The journalist had been aboard the Resolute, despite Anakin's protests. Obi-wan remembered the interview. Anakin had still been humming with adrenaline, in a fantastic mood over their minimal losses. He was celebrating, talking animatedly and slapping a tired Obi-wan on the shoulder. The screen switched to footage of some battle he didn't recognize.

The public was only ever shown the victories. Sure he and Anakin were some of the most effective Jedi in the order, he could not deny the numbers. But they weren't gods. It seemed to him, looking back, that they'd lost as much as they'd won, maybe more.

Now the screen showed a wide shot of Anakin disembarking from a gunship amidst his troops. Though the camera focused on the general, in the background he saw Ahsoka talking to a blue-painted clone who could have even been Rex. Seeing her face even from a distance made Obi-wan feel a little sick with worry. Feeling useless just sitting there, he got to his feet. It was also better, despite the fact that no one was watching it, that he did not sit directly in front of the screen.

He'd had his fill of propaganda for the day. Though he hadn't seen much of it, he assumed Separatist propaganda was no different. A place like Purgat Station was a sort of limbo when it came to which sort they showed, completely dependent on which HoloNet wavelengths they managed to get a hold of. Obi-wan scanned the bar for some sort of dataport, anything which would allow Artoo access to the stations network, but there was nothing. He was starting to consider talking to some of the guests when he saw a group of aliens coming down the hallway.

He wasn't the only one to stop and watch. The newcomers were pykes, insect like and bipedal, covered in body armour and armed to the teeth. It was clear they represented the Pyke Syndicate, one of the most powerful crime families in the galaxy, especially when it came to the spice trade. They did not enter the bar. Instead they disappeared into the room through which the drunks had been dragged. If Obi-wan knew anything it was that he had to see what was going on inside that room.

Knowing that Artoo would follow him, he headed for the exit. Maybe there was some dataport he'd missed outside, or some other way into the room. However as he walked down the hallway his attention was drawn by a sound. It was barely audible coming through the room's thick metal walls, but it appeared that some sort of alarm was going off. In frustration, Obi-wan yanked at the door with the force. There was no way he was getting through that locking mechanism; not without a significant display of effort. It would be so easy if only he could use his lightsaber. The weapon in question was currently stashed within Artoo, but of course he couldn't.

Continuing back out onto the platform, Obi-wan detected a change in atmosphere. More beings were milling around, chattering excitedly. Some were peering upwards. There wasn't much to see except for the catwalks of the next level with only a little space around them.

"Is there something going on?" Obi-wan asked the closest group.

"Some people think they heard an explosion," answered an ithorian through a mechanical translator on his neck.

The child beside him made excited noises, gesturing upwards.

"Curious," Obi-wan rubbed his beard.

It wasn't too much of a jump to make that Anakin was somehow involved.

"There's quite a lineup at the hotel lifts," said a human woman, who had overheard them. "I was going to go up and take a look, but figured it wasn't worth it. Something's always blowing up in this place."

Before Obi-wan could respond his attention was drawn by the door to the secret room sliding open. The three pykes he'd seen enter, two modified police droids, and a trandoshan pushed through the crowed. They were heading for the hotel entrance.

If he attempted to follow them up the elevator they would surely beat him up there. Obi-wan looked around for a faster way up. Across the track of the hover-tram he saw a service ladder. He leapt over without much difficulty. It wasn't a particularly large jump, not impressive enough to give him away. Even so, there were many eyes on him and he quickly scaled the ladder. Artoo flew beside him.

The next level was just a higher entrance to the hotel. He kept climbing. On the third level up the ladder ended and the wall he'd been climbing on had given away to bulging window. He saw the back end of a modified fighter, much too close to be safe. A much larger, heavily armed freighter was keeping it trapped against the station. The engines flared, close enough that they fogged the transpasteal.

Obi-wan backed away instinctually. The freighter moved away a little allowing the smaller ship some room to maneuver. It went up, then back as if it was crashing into the station. It must have been forced into some sort of private landing bay directly above him.

After a bit of poking around, Obi-wan managed to get under the floor in the landing bay. The air smelled like fuel and the vacuum. He felt the rumbling as a ship landed. Obi-wan crawled towards the nearest light source. It appeared a ring of floor vents ran around the entire outside of the room. He crawled, looking up for somewhere he could hide, and listening. In the large echoing room filled with the sounds of a landing bay, he could not make out words. There was a female, she sounded frightened.

Seeing his chance, Obi-wan exited the grate, and jumped immediately onto the large pipe which ran close to the ceiling. High above, he crawled closer to the group of beings in the center of the room. He was at a good vantage point, and could hear them perfectly.

The frightened woman stood surrounded by the crew he'd seen leaving the secret room. She was dark skinned, tall, and obviously muscular. A faded red scarf was tied around her head and knotted in the back. As he watched, she unholstered her two pistols and dropped them into the hands of one of the pykes. From the ramp of the freighter he'd seen outside, a much larger group of pykes dismounted.

"You should have known running from us would be pointless," said one of the pykes, chin antenna twitching. "We've been lenient with you, given you so much time, and yet you still haven't delivered on what you owe us."

"I made no deal with you!" spat the woman. "And even if I had, you know I lost my ship. How am I supposed to deliver on anything?"

Across the hanger from where Obi-wan had entered, a floor grate slid out of place. Someone flew from the vent, landing effortlessly on their feet. Anakin Skywalker had entered the room, and all eyes turned to stare at him. They'd been in the same ventilation system at the same time, Obi-wan realized.

"Anakin, what are you doing here?" the woman said, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I guess I just can't stay out of trouble."

"That's an understatement," Obi-wan whispered to himself.

"Let her go," Anakin instructed, "you know she won't be able to pay you back or finish the job. You're just going after her for fun. There's nothing you can gain out of it."

"And what exactly do you plan to do about it?" With a wave of his hand, the pyke who was speaking dispatched the two police droids.

They each took Anakin by an arm, guns pointed at his head.

"I don't think you want to find out," said Anakin, unfazed.

He allowed them to guide him into the center of the circle, walking just a little slower than they were so they were forced to go at his pace.

"Try to get into the landing bay," Obi-wan whispered into his communicator.

Artoo beeped in response. He did not intend to use his lightsaber, but it was better to have it nearby just in case. Obi-wan had no context for this situation, no idea who this woman was or how she knew Anakin, but like always he would follow Anakin blindly. There was nothing else he could do.

He dropped lightly from the pipe, landing just outside the circle. Suddenly there were far too many blaster trained on him.

"Hey, Obi-wan," Anakin said, sounding not at all surprised to see him.

Obi-wan raised his hands, trying to come off as non-threatening. He reached out through the force, attempting to project an aura of calm. He felt some of the pykes respond, relaxing slightly despite themselves.

"I know I've just dropped in rather abruptly," said Obi-wan, "and I know very little about the situation. But I'm sure that no matter the disagreement we can managed to find a solution that works for everyone, without needing to resort to violence.

The trandoshan laughed, and some of the pykes joined in, making a chattering sound that was probably their equivalent.

"But I so enjoy violence," said the pyke closest to him.

"Ambra will be made an example of," said another pyke, glancing at the trandoshan, "as Meerion one knows these two. We'll dispose of them here."

Two pykes grabbed the woman, and the rest turned towards the Jedi. Obi-wan and Anakin only had a fraction of a second to react. That was all they needed. Obi-wan kicked the nearest pyke in the face, grabbing his blaster as he fell, and flipped out of the way of a police droid's blaster bolt. At the same time, Anakin grabbed one of the pykes in a stranglehold, using his body to block a barrage of blasts.

Dropping the corpse, Anakin tackled a police droid, ripping off its head with inhumane strength only Obi-wan knew was aided by the force.

"Anakin!" the woman, Ambra, yelled a warning.

Behind him, the other droid was raising its blaster. Force sense and reflexes would have easily saved him, had he been holding his lightsaber. The droid fired off a bolt, but as if by some malfunction its arm had been pulled out to the side. Joints cracked, and wires sparked. Looking at Obi-wan, Anakin nodded a thank you, before kicking the droid in the chest.

The two pkyes who held Ambra had stopped, attempting to decide whether they should continue taking their prisoner or help their colleagues who, improbably, appeared as if they might lose to two unarmed humans. Well, the bearded one had stolen a blaster, but he'd barely used it, only shooting one of their brothers in the leg.

Sensing the pykes' hesitation, Ambra made her move. She ducked under the arm of one of her captors, twisting the spindly appendage until something cracked. She threw him onto his comrade, grabbing his blaster from its holster as she did so. She did not show the same restraint as Obi-wan. Two pulls of the trigger and the pykes were dead, smoking holes in both of their foreheads.

Ambra could not dodge blaster bullets like the two mysterious men seemed to be able to, nor was she a master of close quarters combat. Instead, she grabbed a second blaster from the other pyke and headed for cover behind the nose of a nearby ship. As she ran, she fired off several shots into the fray.

One hit the trandoshan in the back, as he grappled with Obi-wan. The Jedi Master dropped the body, turning quickly to see that another of the woman's shots had it its mark as well. Her aim was good, and now only one pyke remained who was not dead or otherwise subdued.

He raised his feelers, dropping his blaster to the floor.

"I'm sorry about your comrades," Obi-wan said. "But this was self defense. Please allow us to continue going about our business without further conflict."

"What are you doing!" the woman yelled. "We need to get out of here now." She was already almost at the door. "They have to have notified station security."

Anakin took off after her, and Obi-wan—though confused—did the same.

"Station security?" he called, voice raised a little to reach her in the large room. "It seemed like this was a private matter. Since when do places like this have a police force?"

"Pykes are in good with the owner," Ambra yelled back at him, a little breathless.

She'd reached the door, and Anakin skidded to a stop beside her. She slammed the open button only to get an error message in response. The muscular woman let out a stream of curses, distinct enough to mark her as someone who'd spent their entire life in the outer rim. However, even before Obi-wan could catch up, the door slid open. On the other side, sat Artoo.

"Artoo!" Anakin exclaimed. "Am I glad to see you."

The little droid beeped happily.

"Come on!" Ambra wasn't even letting them pause for a moment. "It looks like they're coming up the elevator."

The changing numbers on the nearby console did seem to indicate this.

"Artoo," Anakin pointed towards the elevator.

No more instructions were needed. The astromech, shot off towards the closest dataport, and the trio raised down a nearby flight of stairs.

"We can take the service ladder down," Obi-wan said, leading the group.

Artoo may have bought them some time trapping their pursuers in the elevator, but they had to get away quickly. There were sure to be others. As they climbed down the latter, Anakin saw their chance.

Obi-wan had begun his descent to the main level.

"No," Anakin said, dismounting on the second level. "There."

He was pointing to the upper tram which was just beginning to leave its station.

"We're too late," Ambra said.

"No we're not."

Anakin grabbed her arm, taking off running towards the edge of the platform.

"You're crazy!" she yelled.

The trams had no tracks. They hovered in empty space, the edge of the platform a sheer drop to the glass far below. Anakin didn't pause, throwing one of Ambra's arms over his shoulder and grabbing her around the waist, he jumped. Obi-wan followed, and both crossed the distance with ease. Anakin deposited Ambra on one of the cushioned couches, as she stared at them open-mouthed.

Artoo had appeared, hovering faster than any astromech should ordinarily have been able to, in order to catch up with the train.

"Obi-wan," Anakin said, "meet Ambra. Ambra, this is Obi-wan."

Obi-wan examined the woman. The way she dressed, even the way she talked, said smuggler. She looked very much like she belonged on a place like this. He could imagine many ways she could have managed to get in trouble with the pykes, but none which would have so captured Anakin's sympathies.

"Has my little brother dragged you into trouble with him?" he asked, probing.

Ambra obviously did not know what to make of Obi-wan either. "No, I'm afraid it's the other way around. He's been helping me, though I can't fathom as to why."

Obi-wan could. If this woman's story was compelling enough, Anakin was a Jedi to his core. He wouldn't have been able to leave her to her fate no more than he could.

"So why is the Pyke Syndicate after you?" Obi-wan asked. "What do you owe them?"

He hoped that he could resolve this situation quickly. Any distraction from locating Ahsoka not only put her in more danger, but it prolonged the time he and Anakin would be away from the front lines.

"An entire freighter full of spice," she said, voice appropriately hopeless, "worth more credits than any shipment I've ever moved."

"Ah, well that would explain that."

He cast a questioning look at Anakin. Since when was he helping spice dealers out of the holes they'd dug for themselves?

"It wasn't her that made the deal," he defended her. "It was her first mate, behind her back. When she refused to take the job her crew betrayed her and stole her ship."

"I may be a smuggler, but I don't mess with the spice trade," Ambra said, "it's not worth it."

Through the force, Obi-wan could feel the waves of sadness rolling off of her, the sting of betrayal. What friends did someone like Ambra have, aside from her crew? He placed a hand on her shoulder, finally understanding what had drawn Anakin to get involved.

"And what happened to them?" he asked, sensing that the story wasn't over.

Anakin answered for her. "They're dead, destroyed along with her ship and the spice."

"I told them the job was too dangerous," Ambra snarled, hands balling into fists, "no matter what those pykes were offering. They knew Kru'vuren was a war zone."

"Kru'vuren?" This had piqued Obi-wan's interest, but before he could ask for more detail Anakin interrupted.

"She doesn't have a ship, so she can't escape. I helped her steal a fighter, but it didn't go well. Ones she's off the station she's home free. The pykes won't waste resources going after her. If we could just smuggle her out on the Starless with us…"

"That's a fantastic idea," said Ambra. "I think we should leave now, and not just for my sake. You're both on their radar now. If we're going to leave at all it has to be now."

Anakin and Obi-wan exchanged a look. She was right, but they couldn't leave. They hadn't found what they'd came for.

Anakin's eyes lit up, "maybe Padme and Rex have found something. We can all make it to the ship, get out of here. If we're making a run for it there's no reason to hold anything back."

His meaning was clear to Obi-wan. He could tell Anakin was itching to pull out his lightsaber.

"I'll try them on the comlink," he said, though he was not optimistic.

They were rapidly approaching the point where they would be forced to reveal their identities and take the information they needed by force. In a place like this news of them would reach the Separatists almost instantly, not to mention that even using their full skillset they would still be vastly outnumbered. Obi-wan hoped greatly that they would be able to avoid that eventuality.

He tried every channel on his communicator, but got only static.

"Now that is very odd."

"Kriff!" Ambra stood up, looking wildly around. "We're done for. They've activated the station's security system. It knows where we are. It's blocking all communications from this section."

Suddenly, the tram came to a jolting stop, and they weren't at a station. They had passed some without incident, and were approaching the stop near the main landing bay, but it was too far for even them to jump. There were only four other beings on the train, and they had all clustered at the front, as far away from them as possible.

"Well," said Obi-wan, "I guess our only option now is down." He turned to Anakin. "Can you land it carrying her?"

"Piece of cake."

Ambra stared aghast over the edge of the tram. "You're both delusional, we're two stories up. You're not carrying me anywhere."

"Do you see any other options?" Anakin asked, eyebrow slightly raised.

"Aim for one of the supports," Obi-wan advised. "Wouldn't want to crack it. Who knows what it's made of, though I'm hoping transparasteel."

Without even pausing he leapt over the edge, flipping in mid-air and landing in a crouch. Picking up Ambra in his arms—despite the fact she was the same size as him—Anakin quickly followed. He landed lightly; too lightly, Ambra realized, setting her down on one of the metal supports crisscrossing the transparent floor.

"Who are you guys?" she asked, suddenly a little afraid.

"We told you," said the mysterious young man who had swooped in and saved her when she had thought all hope was lost, "I'm Anakin and he's Obi-wan."

They ran down one of the beams until it reached a walkway running along the outside of the station's interior. Unmarked doors sat sporadically along the wall, none of which opened as they ran past. As they approached the largest door yet Obi-wan noticed a camera watching them. It followed their movements, like one of many eyes on a massive droid.

A place like Purgat Station seemed like it would require an army of its own to exist in unpoliced space, but the guards they'd seen had been few and far between. No, Purgat Station could take care of itself, and that was why Obi-wan suddenly had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt as if they were germs battling the immune system of some massive beast.

"We're too exposed," Anakin was saying, "we need to get in there."

Artoo was working with a dataport, but with a sound of alarm he was suddenly thrown back by a circuit-frying electric shock. He crashed into the barrier which divided the hall from the transparent floor.

"I'm going to cut through," Anakin said. "It's the only option. Don't worry, I don't think Ambra is any friend of the Separatists."

"I'm not, but why is that relevant right now?"

Anakin didn't answer. He was too busy studying Obi-wan's response. He looked stressed, but he had said nothing in protest. Instead he looked at the camera. Despite not noticeably moving his hands, it suddenly twisted, sparking and hanging limp against the wall.

If Ambra hadn't noticed that she certainly noticed when a small object fell from the back of Anakin's shirt, and into his hand.

"Shield him with your body," Obi-wan told her, "we would prefer no one see what he's about to do."

She followed his instructions, and watched as Anakin activated the lightsaber. The blue plasma blade cut through the door like it was butter. She was too shocked to immediately say anything. Ambra had always been one for keeping her head down, and making herself a target in a galactic wide war as about as far from that as one could get.

Anakin pushed the chunk of door inwards with the force, and she finally managed to find her voice. "I've never met a Jedi before."

"And you're so sure you have now?" Obi-wan asked, "That he didn't just steal that blade?"

Ambra looked at him with raised brows. "I may be an idiot for not putting the pieces together earlier, but I'm not that stupid."

Obi-wan shrugged.

"So what are two Jedi doing on Purgat?"

"Shh," Anakin pushed a figure to his lips, stepping through the hole into the hallway on the other side. "Try not to be too loud with the J word. We'll have time to talk if we make it to the ship."

"I have a really bad feeling about this," Obi-wan said, looking down the hall at yet another camera.

Suddenly both Jedi stiffened at once. Then, they spoke in unison.

"Run!"

They took off down the hall and all Ambra could do was follow. A ray shield shot down from the ceiling, so close behind them that had Ambra been a millisecond slower it would have sliced through her heel. They did not stop running. Ray shield after ray shield was activated, like something was chasing them, or forcing them towards something.

A larger room stood at the end of the hall before them. The hole for a lift platform sat directly in the middle. They shot out into this junction of three hallways, only to find that the entrances to the other two were already shielded. An orange wall materialized behind them as well, leaving the only options up or down through the tube, and there was no platform in site.

There was a click, and panels on the walls slid open to reveal three massive canons, all which were trained at their heads. Anakin let his lightsaber drop down into his hand.

"Stop," Obi-wan caught his arm.

The platform was lowering. On it was a group of pykes larger than the one in the landing bay. At the same time, one of the ray shields deactivated and an equally large squad of repurposed combat droids of various types, and a few living mercenaries entered. There was even one super battle droids and two of the familiar B1 units among the assassin droids and police units.

"It's starting to feel like home," Anakin whispered to Obi-wan.

"It disturbs me to find out that you consider our home to be the front lines."

Anakin shrugged. "How about we play good hosts? It's been too long since I've cut up a clanker."

"Sometimes you sound more like a clone than Rex does. Give your lightsaber to Artoo, subtly. Stay shielded from the cameras."

"You're not serious?"

"We can find a better opportunity later… when we have less of an audience." Obi-wan's eyes flickered from the crowd of assailants to the many cameras which could get an angle on them.

Anakin made a noise of disapproval, but did as Obi-wan said. The pykes and droids were circling, and there were far too many blasters pointed at him for his liking.

Their hands were secured behind them with energy bindings, and they were taken down into the basement levels of the station. In the lift, all three of them were searched for weapons. Ambra's stolen guns was confiscated, and someone made a comment about how strange it was they carried no weapons. Their comlinks were confiscated however, and Anakin prayed that Padme would not call.

"Should we take these two to the airlock?" one of the pykes asked.

"No," answered the one who appeared to be their leader. "All humans look the same to me, but there is something about this one…" he gestured to Obi-wan. "Keep them with her. We've got just enough time to make the show. Throwing these two into the mix should make it more interesting, and Meerion has been such a great host."

Artoo had managed to stay close to them thus far, and the group had thinned out considerably. There were also less cameras down here, in this dim hallway which smelled strangely like animals. Anakin nudged Obi-wan with his elbow. The two men did not need words to speak. He said with his eyes that he did not like the sound of that, and Obi-wan agreed.

The group had stopped so that one of the bounty hunters could open a portal on the wall. Anakin nodded to the astromech.

"Get in there," the pyke holding Anakin shoved him into the room, but when Artoo tried to follow the bounty hunter blocked his way.

He kicked the droid into one of the police units. "Bring it down the hall, get it fitted with a restraining bolt and put it to use. They won't be needing it anymore."

As the larger droid pulled him away, the hilt of a lightsaber appeared at the top of his head. Obi-wan reached out, and the sword began to jiggle. The cell doors slammed closed, and his fingertips were left brushing against the metal.

"Well, this is just great," said Anakin sarcastically.

Obi-wan glared at him. "I admit I may have made a slight miscalculation, but I'm still tentative to reveal our identities after all the work we've put in to remain unnoticed thus far."

Ambra was unsure about whose side she was on. She was not ready to die, and if these Jedi could have saved her life she would have chosen that over whatever awaited them. However, she did not want the target on her back which would come from them revealing their identities, and maybe they could still get out of this. Her chances were certainly better than before.

"Sorry about him," Anakin said, trying to draw her into the squabble, "his arrival has been counterproductive to your situation."

Ambra shrugged, voicing her thoughts aloud, "my chances are better than before."

"Ah, a pragmatist," said Obi-wan, "I like that."

"I'm not ungrateful," Ambra continued. "I appreciate the help, though it looks like you might have to give up on whatever brought you to Purgat in the first place."

Anakin's face hardened, and Ambra was afraid she'd said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry I brought you so much trouble," she attempted.

"I can't," Anakin said, his voice quiet, then looking up at his friend, "we can't. If there's anything I know it's that."

Ambra was curious, but she did not push for more information. The last thing she needed was to get involved in Jedi business. Anakin had begun pacing around the room, examining the walls like he expected to find a weak point.

"Since we appear to have a minute," Obi-wan said, "I'm curious about what job would have brought your crew to Kru'vuren. A recent war zone does not seem like the optimal place to sell spice."

"It was a massive shipment," said Ambra, "but it was being bought by only one person. One of the new co-kings, Reyla Var has a habit. The pykes told me my ship was shot down by rebels after it was already in the atmosphere, but Var is an important client and they're going to replace the shipment for a relatively small number of credits. They just need someone foolhardy enough to deliver it."

"Can't she just send one of her ships to pick it up?" asked Anakin, from the other side of the cell.

He was braced against the wall, trying to step through his arms so that his bound hands would be in front of him. Ambra shrugged.

"If I had to guess," said Obi-wan, "I'd say she doesn't want the Separatists to know what she's spending their funds on."

Their cell was barren, a concrete cube with no furnishings whatsoever. There were two doors, and through which they'd entered, and another that suddenly slid open. Two super battle droids stood facing them, gun arms raised.

"You are coming with us."

Behind them stretched a thin hallway, just wide enough for the two droids to walk side by side. Anakin walked towards them as if obeying. Without warning he kicked one hard in the joint, knowing it would detach the gun arm. At the same time, he slammed the other against the wall with the force. Obi-wan, though he would have preferred to analyze the situation before attacking, joined in. He kicked the first droids legs out from under it, allowing Anakin to focus his full attention on the second droid. With the force, Anakin reached into the droids circuitry, ripping through vital chips and wiring. It fired shots uselessly into the ceiling before shutting down for good.

"Come on!" Anakin took off running down the long, curving hall, and the others followed.

It ended in a circular room with a lift in the center. There were a few other entrances, but they were all ray shielded. Two droids stood waiting by the lift: an assassin droid, and a protocol droid holding what appeared to be several vibroblades.

"I'm afraid that may have done no good," said Obi-wan. "It seems we have no other option but to go where they want us to."

"Then I vote we stay here," said Ambra.

In response, the assassin droid pointed its gun at her.

"Into the lift," it instructed, voice emotionless in the way only a droid's could be.

"And what exactly awaits us at the top?" Obi-wan asked.

He and Anakin both searched for information in their own way. The other man was busy scanning their surroundings, looking for anywhere else to go, unsuccessfully.

"You have angered the pykes," the protocol droid explained, "and will be put to death. However you're final act will be to put on a show for the station's guests. You will be given a chance to defend yourself against the beast in the arena above. It is, of course, futile, but lifeforms seem to get enjoyment from it."

The lift tube was a tight fit for the three of them. The protocol droid had thrown the vibroblades at their feet, and Anakin was hoping that if he wished hard enough they would spontaneously transform into lightsabers.

As the door slid closed, Obi-wan turned to Ambra. "Would you believe this isn't the first time Anakin and I have been in this situation? In fact, I say our chances are better this time. We're not chained to posts, and they've even given us weapons."

"Yeah, just a walk in the park," said Anakin sarcastically.

Their heads began to emerge above the stadium floor, revealing the massive walls of spectators, and the screens showing close-ups of their faces.

"Wait until we have less of an audience, Anakin," Anakin repeated Obi-wan's earlier words, mimicking his accent rather well.

His master looked sheepish. "How was I to know this was what they had planned?"

"Wha-what is that thing?" Ambra stammered, looking behind them.

Both men turned.

"That," said Anakin, "would be a Krayt Dragon. I think I'd rather take the Geonosian arena again."

Their energy bindings automatically released.

"Stop whining and grab a blade," said Obi-wan.

The three of them stood, weapons in hand, waiting for the protective shield that surrounded them to be removed. Anakin scanned the audience, and realized he was looking for someone in particular in the wall of faceless beings. Padme was here, he could feel her presence. Here he was, worrying her again. Anakin would not let her watch him die.

The shield deactivated, and the Krayt Dragon let out an ear splitting screech. It gave up its attempt to reach the beings in the audience, and focused its attention on them.

"Move slowly," Obi-wan said, as the trio began to back away, stepping down off their pedestal to the sandy floor.

The dragon seemed to be examining them, yellow slitted eyes unblinking. It scraped one of its clawed front legs across the floor, kicking up dirt. Then, it charged.

"Run!" Obi-wan grabbed Ambra's arm, pulling her with him.

"Circle around back!" Anakin yelled. "I'll keep it occupied."

He skidded to a stop, then took off in the other direction.

"Anakin, no!" Obi-wan called.

Now it was Ambra who was towing him. Anakin yelled as he ran, and the dragon turned away from them to focus its attention on him. It drew back on its haunches and pounced, landing with a thump that shook the arena. Anakin dodged out of the way of its claw just in time.

Now, he was under the belly of the beast. He jammed his vibroblade upwards. It could not managed to pierce even the smaller scales here, and the dragon slammed its torso downwards. Anakin flipped out of the way just in time. He held its complete attention, just barely dancing out of the way of its attacks. It slashed and snapped with speed unusual for its size.

Anakin's acrobatics had captivated the audience. No one had ever seen a human move like that: the reflexes, the agility. All the same, it seemed as if he was only a millisecond from death. He was losing ground; the dragon was forcing him backwards, flip after flip, and dodge after dodge. No one could keep that up forever.

Ambra and Obi-wan were behind the creature now, completely unnoticed.

"Stay back," the older Jedi warned her.

There would be no argument from Ambra.

All the same, as he took off running, she muttered, "I just feel so useless without my blasters."

The Krayt Dragon's long, spiked tail swung back and forth, slicing the air like a whip and shaking the ground when it made contact. Obi-wan jumped, flipping through the air and grabbing onto a spike halfway up. The dragon stiffened, but Anakin jammed his blade down onto one of its feet, and the disturbance was quickly forgotten.

Obi-wan climbed onto the creature's back, every step deliberate. He used the tips of the spines as handholds, placing his feet only on the centers of the scales. When Obi-wan reached its neck, it began to shake its head wildly, snapping at Anakin all the while. Obi-wan clutched a spike for dear life.

One bite snapped shut only feet from Anakin's arm. Instead of immediately drawing back, he drove the knife into one of the beast's nostrils. It came away covered in goo, but without any trace of blood. The dragon screamed all the same, swatting him away with its claw. This time it was successful. Anakin went flying through the air. He crashed heavily to the ground, and in the audience Padme gasped.

Meerion had already come to the realization that Padme and Rex knew the two male prisoners.

"You have to get them out of there," she said, her flirtatious tone gone, uncaring demeanor shattered.

She sounded almost as if she was begging. He was starting to grow fond of Padme, and seeing her like this was disconcerting; it was such a switch in character. Who were these men?

"Please, Luce."

She stared at him with her large brown eyes. They held a watery glaze he knew meant sadness in humans, or pain. He liked this woman, yes, but that did not mean he trusted her.

"Who are they?" he asked, turning his attention back to the battle.

Whoever they were, they were certainly impressive. The bearded man had managed to get up onto the beasts head, bracing himself between its crown of spines. It had certainly noticed him now, and was ignoring the other man in an attempt to shake him off.

"Bounty hunters," Padme said, too quickly. "…friends. I owe them my life. I uh—I hired them and their ship to take me on this expedition. I've worked with them many times before. Trouble does seem to follow them, but it's worth it…"

She trailed off. On instinct, Padme had begun to collect half-truths and old lies into something that had some chance of saving all of them, but it was hard when she couldn't tear her eyes away from what was happening in the arena below.

The dragon had lowered its head, trying to get Obi-wan in reach of one of its front claws. Using the edge of the socket as a handhold Obi-wan plunged the knife straight into its eye. The beast screamed. Obi-wan was dislodged, but his dismount was controlled. He flipped through the air, pulling out the blade as he went. He didn't pause when he hit the ground, taking off running to where Anakin had fallen.

"As you can see," Padme said, "they're quite exceptional."

Meerion agreed wholeheartedly. The way these men moved, it was unlike any creature he'd seen before.

Anakin was conscious, sitting but clutching at his stomach where the claws had made contact. As Obi-wan approached he pushed himself stiffly to his feet, one hand held firmly over his wound. The Krayt Dragon was still screaming, shaking its head and swinging its tail wildly. Suddenly it seemed to remember the creatures that had did this to it, and charged straight for them, faster than before. Obi-wan grabbed Anakin by the arm, towing him across the stadium. The dragon swayed as it ran, veering to one side then overcompensating. Its balance was clearly off and it stumbled, and there were several moments when it almost tripped. All the same, it was gaining. Anakin was holding it together well, but he wasn't at full speed.

"Guys!" Ambra yelled. She was far on the other side of the arena, and they were currently running away from her. "Quickly, this way!"

The men veered sharply. When the dragon tried to follow them through the tight turn it stumbled, one shoulder crashing to the ground before it righted itself. They now saw what Ambra had been yelling about. The energy shield which had covered the large door in the wall had disappeared. They had a way out.

They just had to make it there while staying ahead of the dragon. It leapt, attempting to land with its claws on top of them. However, due to its impaired depth perception, it crashed down beside them instead, turning quickly to attempt a bite.

Anakin and Obi-wan separated, both jumping out of the way in opposite directions. Anakin stumbled as he landed, failing to conceal a wince. The pause very likely would have cost him his life, had the dragons full attention not been focused on Obi-wan. The Jedi Master held his hands out in front of him, an intense look of concentration on his face as he danced backwards. He was using the force to draw the dragon's attention off of Anakin.

Obi-wan realized he had little hope of controlling the beast's mind further than this. It was too wild, too angry. It reared up on its hind legs, using its tail for balance. It loomed over him, and as he clutched the vibroblade in front of him he realized there was nothing he could do to harm it.

Then the beast was screaming in pain. It toppled over to the side, and Obi-wan saw that Anakin had thrown his knife. With expert precision, it had stuck directly into the dragons already damaged eye. It would not buy them much time. They took off running for the door, where Ambra was already waiting for them.

Inside was a large pen, empty aside from Artoo, who sat beside a dataport. He'd somehow, unbelievably, managed to get away, and to find them in time.

"I've never wanted to kiss a droid so much in my kriffing life," Ambra cheered.

The little astromech beeped, and began to fiddle with the dataport.

"Wait," Anakin stopped him, "close it on my mark."

The dragon was still charging towards them.

"What are you doing?" Ambra cried. "Close it now. Close it now!"

It was almost upon them, coming through the doorway.

"Now!" Anakin yelled.

At the speed of light, the energy barrier reappeared, detaching the Krayt Dragon's head from its body.

 **A/N: Sorry about the wait. I usually like to update more regularly than this, but I've been so busy. I just had a tough physics midterm and you guys's comments would really brighten my day. Thanks for sticking with me. Do you think the plot is moving too slowly? I hope it's not boring, I try to put in action, though I know it was lacking last chapter. If all goes to plan, there will be one more chapter to wrap up the Purgat Station arc, then Ahsoka should get an entire chapter to herself.**


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